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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805908">The Friends We Made Along The Way</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/erenthebright/pseuds/erenthebright'>erenthebright</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dungeons &amp; Dragons References, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:01:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,287</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/erenthebright/pseuds/erenthebright</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Swirling storm clouds blocked out the moonlight on the first day in Spring. A shiver passed through the spirit world, felt by many sensitive to the vibration. A vision came to the seers and prophets--a crown broken into six parts, the dancing and shifting lights that made it up filtering into dust as the world turned black and dull. While many mortals did not understand the meaning, the gods did, the demons did, the higher spirits of the earth comprehended the magnitude of the event. Zandyr, the soul of inspiration, the unifying Dream was broken and fragmented. Of course, as one of the primal forces, even the smallest segment of his being could form its own complete person--its own soul. These vestiges would find their way into mortal bodies, living, dying, and reincarnating until all magic faded from the world and there was no way for the fragments to sustain themselves. It was a race to find the pieces of the Dreamer and seven mortals would be caught in the middle.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Lion in Sheep's Clothing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He made up his mind. Roman set the crown onto his dresser with a low sigh. The Prince wasn’t fit for his title, much less the responsibilities that came with it, so, until he rectified his greatest failure, he wasn’t going to take the crown. His father, King Romulus, could hold onto power for a few more years without him.</p>
<p>“We’re ready, your highness,” one of the seamstresses bowed, drawing Roman’s attention away from his thoughts for just a moment.</p>
<p>He glanced over the stand they had set up in front of three full-body mirrors and tried not to grimace. He and mirrors hadn’t gotten along in a while, not that he wouldn’t use them for combing his hair or applying makeup, but lingering on his reflection wasn’t his idea of a fun time. His tail twitched. When he moved to stand on the step stool they had for him, Roman assumed a formal posture he could hold for a while then retreated back into his mind.</p>
<p>Roman waited for his moment. He’d be swarmed by attendants all day; some making adjustments for the fitting of his regalia, others running to him with samples of food, still more fussing over decorations, garlands, and bouquets all seeking his approval. His coronation was at the end of the month, after all. Everything had to be absolutely perfect for Roman to take the throne--or at least be seen to take the throne. He wasn’t going to have any actual power until Romulus finally died or lost the fear of the court. Even for all the things he must approve, the options were of what Romulus had chosen for him. The current King was still so...demanding.</p>
<p> Only, the heir himself wasn’t exactly perfect. </p>
<p>Roman was Tiefling to start with, a race of humanoids that resembled their demon ancestors...Only the demon in this case was his mother. People may be inclined to fear him by his horned appearance, bright red-gold eyes and the barbed arrow on his tail, but he’d much rather be loved. That wasn’t what his father wanted. <em> He </em> wasn’t what his father wanted. </p>
<p>Roman’s tail twitched again and he felt more than heard one of the seamstresses suck in a fearful breath. She was new in the palace.</p>
<p>“Breathe, Lila,” Roman spoke crisply, using that trained and commanding tone his tutor brow-beat into him. </p>
<p>“Yes, your highness. I’m sorry.” She got back to work as Roman cast her a sympathetic glance. Of course, her head was bent to her stitching so she didn’t see him. </p>
<p>The Prince silently scolded himself for letting his irritation show. His father would much rather have Roman behave at all times...He’d much rather have his brother back, the only person who had shown any real understanding of him in Roman’s whole life. </p>
<p>That’s what love was, he thought, a kind of understanding born from getting to know someone. Of course, it took many forms--some romantic and some platonic and some familial--but it all came down to knowing and still caring for another more than or as much as oneself. </p>
<p>As the seamstresses hemmed and tucked, Roman stood at attention, moving as and when they needed him to, all while watching them through the mirror to avoid looking at his own reflection. Tonight, once the measurements were taken and the adjustments set out, Roman would have a window of time to himself. He could slip out of the Sanguine Palace then...But, there was the problem of being the only person with horns in the whole damn place. It was going to be a bitch to hide his inhuman features long enough to slip past the guards...Unless he went out with the wastewater. </p>
<p>Roman had to suppress a shiver and pointedly decided he’d rather get in trouble for punching a guard then have to wash himself until he bled just to get the stink off of him. Not to mention he might get severely ill from the moat which would handicap his escape and subsequent manhunt for his brother. Romulus had forbidden the search for Remus and Roman was certain waiting to be King and then fighting with his father for true power would consume more time than it was worth. He wanted to reserve his energy for the task at hand. </p>
<p>He glanced up at his reflection when one of the attendants mentioned how much his complexion matched the Kingdom’s Coat of Arms. The outfit was a bit overly fancy, especially around the shoulders and chest. So many dangling gold bobbles wouldn’t make breaking a grapple any easier and might just tear the white silk. Of course, this wasn’t an outfit for fighting in.</p>
<p>“You look like a proper lion, your highness,” Lila commented, gathering a small bit of fabric to make sure the military-style coat hugged his waist while still giving him room to breathe. “Noble and powerful and revered even among beasts.” There was a worshiping hint in her tone that worried him.</p>
<p>His neutral expression broke into a subtle frown. There was that old reference again to the story of how Father raised this Kingdom from ruin at the advice of some giant snake--the aforementioned beast. Like a <em> snake </em> was a good source of information to begin with. It was likely just some ploy to mystify Romulus’ image and capitalize on the people’s fear of Yuan-ti serpent men. Or worse it was a flat out racist remark.</p>
<p>The more Roman let his thoughts wander, the more they returned to his worries. What if tonight didn’t go well? What if he got caught? Would he be able to bull shit his way out of confinement? Would Romulus actually follow through on his threat to lock Roman in the tallest tower of the palace like he was some damsel from the fairytales? How ironic would it be for that to occur and then, out of the mist, Remus crashes in and they both run away from the palace together? </p>
<p>Remus...</p>
<p>Roman shook his head, not paying enough attention to realize he’d refused a refreshment. How many times were his thoughts going to return to that source of guilt? The Prince squared his shoulders and glared at his reflection, daring it to change, daring the thoughts to return so he could attack and dismiss them. It did not matter how much he fretted or how anxious he got about tonight. This was his opportunity and he was <em> going </em> to take it, consequences be damned. </p>
<p>“Are you troubled, your highness?” Lila asked only to be shushed by a flurry of concerned gestures. The young woman blanched and tried to apologize for any offense before Roman interrupted her. </p>
<p>“Yes, I am troubled. About a great many things,” he felt his tail twitch again as his glare into the mirror became more intense. “You are not someone who is privy to my thought...but your concern is appreciated.” Roman turned to look down at the woman kneeling by his feet and very softly thanked her. </p>
<p>She looked to be about ready to cry, though whether that was from fear to relief he couldn't quite tell. Roman hated the idea it could be either. </p>
<p>“If you are all quite done, I have other important matters to attend to.” He returned to the stern expression that was expected of him and the servants bustled into activity, packing up their tools while he got changed. </p>
<p>The manservant that helped Roman get dressed went to gather his usual, overly fancy clothes when Roman stopped him. “Picani, one moment.” He waited for all the others to filter out of the room before letting out a sigh and dropping some of his stress. “I know what my father said about ‘appropriate dress for a prince’ but could we <em> please </em> go for something more casual.” </p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, yer highness!” Picani smiled in his wide casual way, roaming through the walk-in closet, “Let’s see here, what are we feeling like today, hm? Maybe something airy? Oh! or maybe something smart--like that one, uh, hero from the Fable of Two Cities?” He poked his head out of the closest and Roman gave the man a long, blank look. </p>
<p>Picani stared back for a few seconds before awkwardly nodding to himself. “Don’t know that one,” he whispered, “Okay, so the story goes that there are two cities on neighboring hills that always feud with each other until one day a wandering bard named Morpheus does his thing and puts everyone to sleep with his music. Once they’re all asleep, the valley gets all beautiful and peaceful. When he wakes them up, Morpheus shows the people what peace can do for them, and then they actually start to work through their problems instead of fighting all the time.”</p>
<p>“And what, pray tell, does that have to do with a casual outfit?”  Roman leaned against the headboard and watched as his manservant animatedly pulled together garments and accessories he knew fit the Prince’s sense of style.</p>
<p>“Well, since Morpheus is a famous folk-hero, yer father won’t have too much room to complain about your adopting his style. It’ll be a statement, of--uh--peacemaking before the stress of handing over the crown!” Picani spoke in his bouncy happy way and Roman tried not to let his knee-jerk reaction dictate his words.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure how much I’ll want to follow that <em> particular </em> tradition.” He sighed, itching at his left horn. It was bothering him for a while now, that one bit of jewelry the portraiture stuck on him last week had been a ring before and it stripped off some of the brittle outer layers. </p>
<p>Picani noticed, of course. Picani always notices. “I understand, yer highness. You’re feeling suffocated by the King’s expectations of ya--”</p>
<p>“I--wha-- That’s not it!” Roman snapped while flustering. </p>
<p>Roman’s manservant just nodded in a slow, sagely understanding way. “Then how would you describe what you’re feeling, my prince?” Picani laid the clothes down and sat next to Roman’s legs, hands folded in his lap and glasses slightly askew. </p>
<p>The Prince’s glare softened as he sorted through his words, very carefully. Picani might have done more to raise Roman than Remus ever did, but the servant still reported to the King. He’d learned that the hard way when he was a preteen. “Father only wants what he <em> thinks </em> is best for me, but he’s never bothered to get to know me. He has expectations that...I don’t want for myself.”</p>
<p>“And you’re worried that you won’t like who you’d become if you try to live up to his expectation? Or that in trying to please him, you’ll lose sight of yourself?” Picani coaxed. Roman didn’t answer him, turning his stare out the stained glass windows and pursing his lips. </p>
<p>“Picani, if I wasn’t a Prince, what would you say I’d be? By looks or by personality.” </p>
<p>The Prince flashed his gaze back to the man who hummed. “Well,” Picani stood and gathered the tunic, holding it out to Roman in such a way the fabric would get caught on his horns and tear. “At first guess, knowing yer charming smiles and sharp sibyllic wit, I’d say you’d be a bard. But, then again, yer highness has a skill with the sword that is unmatched in the whole kingdom!”</p>
<p>Roman huffed at the assessment and stood, musing over it as Picani dressed him. “Is that why you chose a bardic <em> folk hero </em> to inspire my outfit today?”</p>
<p>“Well, that and I thought you’d appreciate the freedom of movement, yer highness. After all, being stuffed up in formal attire all day for a month will do that to ya.” He hummed jovial while tightened the corset over Roman’s undershirt.</p>
<p>“Yes,” the prince grunted, “it’s all very <em> breathable</em>.”</p>
<p>“Hehe, sorry.” Picani notched the strings a bit looser and Roman took a deep breath to properly hold shape. Once that was done, Roman pulled on the vest while Picani tied the ribbons above Roman’s calves into perfect bows. Despite dressing down, Roman did still have to look like a prince. “One for your tail, sire?”</p>
<p>“Not today.” Roman gave himself a passing glance in the mirror just to be sure he didn't look <em> too much </em> like an aristocrat and decided it was passable. “After my lessons today, I’ll take my governance work and my dinner in the study. I’m not to be disturbed by anyone, including you. Not unless my Father has suddenly and tragically expired, anyway.” He briskly strode towards the door, pausing to run a hand back through his hair and so Panici could open it for him. Roman counted no fewer than twenty attendants all waiting for his attention and groaned internally. The night could not get here soon enough.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The Prince worked diligently and seriously for the first time in months and it was <em> exhausting</em>. He was making plan after plan, setting up his end of the kingdom’s operation for just shy of two months--barring any unforeseen circumstances--so that his personal servants and the country at large wouldn’t be too inconvenienced by his unannounced extended leave of absence. He certainly wasn’t dwelling on the crisis of succession that might arise if he took longer to find Remus than that, nor was he imagining the war that would cost hundreds if not thousands of lives if the <em> court </em> tried to pull a coup d'etat. It wasn’t like his father’s rule had only been about one or so generations of stability since the previous era of rampant corruption and financial degradation. Oh, divines, was he really about to do this?!</p>
<p>Roman took a long drink from his wine cup to keep his nerves steady before penning his declaration. “I, Roman of the Dawn Kingdom, son of King Romulus-- is that too formal?” He groaned and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Forget formal, Roman. Focus.”</p>
<p>He cleared his throat and continued, laying out protection for Picani and Lila who were both uninvolved in his little escape. He declared his intention to locate Remus and return him to the palace as a co-ruler. Roman even elected to recognize a handful of the squires who had been in training for well over five years--Romulus had refused to Knight them as the young trainees were more loyal to Roman than to him. The Prince also wrote up an edict that, upon the date of his coronation, would lower taxes on low-income families and farmers and emphasized the importance of formalized education to be more widely available. It was a start to improving everyone’s daily lives and would also give the miserly court a few far-reaching decrees to shout down as opposed to the ‘more sensible’ ones that Roman could sneak past. </p>
<p>By dating them to his coronation, Roman also disguised his intentions to leave tonight. He cleared his throat again and called Picani into the room once all the documents were sealed. “Send these,” Roman handed him the stack of edicts, “to the court office for review. And this,” he dropped the hefty letter of intention onto the top, “is to go to my steward and is not to be opened until tomorrow night. Understood?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sire.” Picani shuffled the papers in his hands to make sure he wouldn’t drop any of them. “Are you ready to retire for the night?”</p>
<p>“No...” Roman stood, perusing the books in a show of disinterest. “I’ll be up for a little while, yet.”</p>
<p>“Still not to be disturbed?” At the look Roman flashed him, Picani nodded and quickly excused himself. The Prince waited, listening for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. He breathed a low sigh and scrambled towards the window, wrenching it open and squeezing out onto the balcony only to curse under his breath and double back inside to lock the study doors. </p>
<p>Once out in the night air again, Roman used his superior athletic ability to climb up onto the parapet and make his way down towards his room, hopping from one drainage gargoyle to another as quietly as he could. He’d unlocked his window this morning before the tailors came so it should be--and Picani must have reapplied the latch. “Bitch, bitch, bitch--” Roman cursed to himself. The Prince ground his pointed teeth together, trying to think of something he could do. Ah! Mage Hand!</p>
<p>Roman closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, muttering the incantation while making the correct gesture for conjuration magic. On the other side of the glass, a floating spectral hand materialized which he directed to unlatch the window. Once that was done, Roman slipped inside and had the hand assist in gathering his stash of supplies: enough dried food for three weeks, a good amount of coin, his rapier and katana, as well as portions of an old armor set that he’d secretly had padding attached to--in this case it was a pauldron, a half-breastplate that interlocked over his heart with said pauldron, a set of greaves, tassets welded to a thick belt, and vambraces. The weight would slow him down but the thick leather patting and tight fit shouldn’t make too much noise. </p>
<p>Putting it all on still took much longer than he would have liked, so Roman rushed a bit more than he was used to, tugging on a hooded cloak and forgetting to latch the window again on his way out. From there, his biggest obstacle was making it towards the moat and then jumping over the damn thing without alerting the guards. Roman had to duck behind a statue as one of the patrols rounded the corner, praying he wouldn’t be noticed in the shadows. When they passed him by, Roman let out a long slow breath, glancing around for a way down. That’s when he spotted a bird’s nest which still had some feathers stuck to it from the spring. He smiled, plucking one up and quickly channeling a little bit of his magic through the plume. With a nervous smile and a tight, “I hope that worked,” Roman took a running jump off the side of the Palace.</p>
<p>The sensation of falling caught in the Prince’s throat as he resisted the urge to scream. He was still descending quickly, but it wasn’t a lethal plummet from the wall and he was able to land on his feet with only a small amount of joint pain and his heart hammering in his ears. Roman glanced back up at the Palace, never really appreciating its size and scale until just now. There was also a lot of sound going on around him, and so many unfamiliar scents that his mind started spinning.</p>
<p>Roman was in a back alley off of the street, having jumped from the east-most side of the Palace into the capital city. It was one of the lower districts as the hill upon which the Palace was built sloped up in a spiral with the tallest tower at its apex. The citizens at this district weren’t the poorest of the poor, but they weren’t well off either, and as Roman made it out into the bustling streets, he realized that maybe taking the moat wouldn’t have been so bad. Everyone here smelled <em> strongly </em> of everything from unwashed armpit to week-old ale and wet dog. He probably stood out from more than just his fancier clothes by the light lavender scent that hung around him.</p>
<p>A couple of people stared at him as he walked by and Roman had to keep a constant mental chant of ‘be casual’ in his head, trying to mimic the more relaxed and loose posture of the common man and failing miserably. He felt so tense but most didn’t seem to notice him for anything other than his inhuman features.</p>
<p>Roman was starting to sweat at the wide-eyed stares he was getting despite the party-vibe that emanated from every lit window and doorway. Actually, what were these people celebrating?</p>
<p>The prince rounded a corner and came out into one of the squares where a fountain displaying Romulus’ image had been so thoroughly hung with lanterns and lights, it was hard to determine his father’s face among the glow. There were people singing and dancing, calling out jeers that the demon-king was being replaced by an actual demon. Roman winced at the comparison, curling the end of his tail around one leg to hide it under his cloak. His mother might be a demon and his father a proper controlling bastard, but he...Neither he nor Remus were demons.</p>
<p>Roman lowered his gaze as he walked, just trying to make it through the square and out of the city. He could find an abbey or a witch’s coven or something from there and get their help in finding Remus. As he moved through the crowd, the Prince almost tripped over a squat, stout halfling who seemed to be a bit too invested in a bag of sweets. </p>
<p>They locked stares and the little man smiled up at him with wide, kind eyes. “Goodness, you’re a tall one, kiddo,” he giggled. </p>
<p>Roman’s brows pinched together and he bent forward a little so as not to shout over the boisterous crowd. “Aren’t you just abnormally short? And who are you calling kiddo; I’m not--” He bit his tongue before he could stupidly spill the beans. Of course, this just seemed to get the giddy little guy laughing more. </p>
<p>“Sorry, sorry. When you’re as old as I am, everyone’s a ‘kiddo’! And I guess I am rather short by tall people standards.” He wiped his hands off on his slightly grey robes and stuck one out in greeting. “I’m Patton! Nice to meet you, stranger!”</p>
<p>“I--” Roman hesitated but ultimately took the halfling’s hand. “Roman...Roman Dawn.”</p>
<p>The halfling’s smile went wider. “Roman! Like the name of the Prince!”</p>
<p>“Y-yeah,” his neck prickled at how loud that exclamation was but no one seemed to notice or pay any mind to the two of them. Looking around, they were some of the few inhuman mortals in the square and that thought alone made Roman feel isolated. “Tell you what, Patton, how about we go someplace quiet if we’re going to chat?”</p>
<p>“Ohh, I know just the place.” He started walking, still holding onto Roman’s hand as the Prince half-stumbled after him. The whole way, Roman was trying to formulate how best to buy the halfling’s silence about his identity. </p>
<p>“Um, Patton--”</p>
<p>“Now, Roman, I know we just met and all, but you seem like a lonely sort of guy to me.” The halfling interrupted him, leading Roman right into a Dwarven bar where he immediately felt out of place for an entirely different reason. He wasn’t short himself at 5’11”--not counting his immaculate horns--but most dwarves only came up to 4’ or so. Save a few human patrons out for the stronger alcohol, he was one of the tallest people in the establishment. All eyes were on them as Patton dragged them both inside and Roman gave a nervous wave and tense smile. </p>
<p>It wasn’t until they’d gotten to their seats and each were handed a drink that Roman really processed what the halfling had said. “I...seem lonely to you?”</p>
<p>“Well sorta, sport. You’re a good looking guy in the middle of a party but you don’t have anyone to dance with?” Patton smiled while sipping his fruity drink through a curly metal tube. He offered one to Roman but he passed. “And not just being alone on such a busy night, but you’re also...Well, you look like an adventurer but you’re not traveling with anyone as far as I can tell.”</p>
<p>Roman arched an eyebrow at him and Patton sheepishly continued.</p>
<p>“Most adventurers I run across always go places in groups of two or three, <em> or </em> they don’t let a well-meaning stranger lead them away from a crowd without notice.”</p>
<p>“Ah.” How <em>remarkably </em>naive of Roman. The Prince buried his face in his hands and heaved a sigh at himself. Jumping off the Palace must have done more than just energize him. All the new sensations must’ve fried his brain too! Roman took a swing of his drink and grimaced. It was certainly strong, but boy was it ever disgusting. “I...suppose I am rather lonely--er! Traveling Alone! I mean that I am traveling alone.”</p>
<p>“What a coincidence! So am I--well if you don’t count Frog.”</p>
<p>“Frog?”</p>
<p>“My donkey!” Patton chirped, sipping more of his drink with a happy hum. The halfling offered some of his sweets too and Roman turned those down as well. “More for me then!”</p>
<p>“What are you traveling for?” Roman wasn’t certain why he’d asked, only that being around this man made him feel a kind of paternal warmth that he sometimes got with Picani, only there wasn’t any...hesitation in Patton’s openness. “I mean, you must have a reason for striking off on your own since...” He didn’t want to belittle the man for being...little... He hadn’t meant for that to be a pun. </p>
<p>“Oh, I’m not <em> alone </em> alone. Not really. My patron is with me. Charity is watching over me wherever I go.” He put his drink down and Roman briefly marveled at how a cup of alcohol nearly the size of his torso had vanished so quickly. “She told me that I have to find some people and help them.”</p>
<p>“What a coincidence...I’m trying to find someone too.” He wasn’t sure why he admitted that but Patton’s wide and sparkling eyes were far more reassuring than they had any right to be. “You’re going to ask to come along.” Roman leaned back with a smirk, taking another sip of his drink thoughtlessly and grunting.</p>
<p>Patton nodded his head, fixing the rounded baby-blue glasses--that seemed to be the remains of welding goggles--on his wide nose. “If we’re both looking for people, maybe the extra pair of eyes could be a great help!”</p>
<p>The Prince considered it for a moment and wasn’t sure about this whole situation. A traveling companion would certainly help with watching his back, but someone as friendly as Patton might get him found <em> fast </em> which was less than ideal. Roman glanced towards the bar, thinking that a better drink might make the decision easier when he saw one of the barmaids getting pushed around by a human patron. He was harassing her and using his nearly three feet on the dwarf to menace her. The bartender warned him to back off only to get charmed. Fucking <em> charmed</em>.</p>
<p>He tried to turn away. Getting caught for a bar fight was something he <em> would </em> regret. Roman’s claw-like nails bit into the flesh of his palm and he grit his teeth. A soft gasp from the halfling beside him, let the Prince know that they were both seeing the same shit. No one was going to help that poor woman after they’d seen what happened to the bartender. While Roman could be sure several others who were seeing what was going down would be there to take revenge for the barmaid, that wouldn’t stop her from getting hurt in the first place.</p>
<p>“Git yer hands offa me, ya over-grown git!” </p>
<p>Her snap thrust him to his feet. Roman felt a wrathful heat boiling in his throat snatched up his drink, stomping over to the harasser and dumping the whole pint onto his head. There was a brief minute where no one moved until the bastard bard rounded on Roman and tried to seize him by the shirt collar. Roman moved faster, taking a half-step out of the ruffian's space and punching him straight in the mouth. </p>
<p>He barely registered Patton, corralling the barmaid away and making sure she was alright as the man he’d just decked stumbled back against the countertop. Despite the blood and broken teeth, Roman still heard his opponent call out in a magic-infused voice. His mind fuzzed for just a moment, but Roman shrugged off the Mass Suggestion. He had been trained to resist mental attacks. Half of the patrons in the bar though? Not so much. </p>
<p>Roman was swarmed by dwarves, stumbling drunk on magic and charging for his kneecaps. Only the other half of the bar jumped into life too attack the now split population--as did the bartender who’d been freed from the first charm spell. The Prince began to curse profusely under his breath as he seized Patton by the back of his off-white and baby blue robes to haul the Cleric? Warlock? up over a shoulder and out the back door.</p>
<p>“Kiddo! Why are we running? Those people need help!”</p>
<p>“I cannot let the guard see me,” Roman hissed, dropping three gold coins on their table as he rushed by so they weren’t dining and dashing. One or two of the patrons paused in their brawl to stare with wide-eyed disbelief at the gold. </p>
<p>Patton gasped, “You aren’t some kind of criminal, are you?”</p>
<p>“Of course not!” Roman snapped, dodging a poor hypnotized brute as he was hurled into the back wall by his own drinking buddy. That was going to smart in the morning, Roman thought.</p>
<p>“You two, over here!” A stranger called from the back. He was standing by the propped open door with a light spell in one hand and a shield on his back. “I know a way past the guards and out of the city.”</p>
<p>“What the hell,” Roman growled under his breath, charging towards the open door and out into the alleyway as their accomplice dropped the bar across the back. Now that Roman was out in the open, and seeing as one hand was still full of halfling, Roman drew his rapier and leveled it at the stranger. “Who are you and why did you help us?”</p>
<p>“Now is not really the time for that, but my name is Logan. I’ve deemed you to be a noble person since you did not allow an innocent to be harmed by a magic-user with ill intent.” The monotony of his voice did very little to assuage Roman’s hostility. But...he was right; they didn’t have time. </p>
<p>“Wait, before we go, I need to get Frog!” Patton slipped out of Roman’s grip and sprinted down a side alley only to come back seconds later on the back of a well kitted out donkey. </p>
<p>“If you are quite finished with distractions, the most expeditious route towards the city gates is this direction. We should not encounter any guards by taking the back allies.” Logan pivoted on his heel rather mechanically and began to walk at a brisk yet unhurried pace. Roman fell in behind him, sheathing his sword so as not to draw any further attention to them. Not that Patton riding on the back of a donkey wasn’t something eye-catching to being with. </p>
<p>The Prince cleared his throat to get Logan’s attention and quickly got into step with the slightly smaller man. “Care to elaborate on your unprompted assistance?”</p>
<p>“Certainly. I myself was about to step in when you--what is the expression?--beat me to the punch--”</p>
<p>Patton laughed, bouncing in his saddle. “Punch! I get it, like when Roman decked ‘im.”</p>
<p>“That was not intentional,” Logan’s tone got sharper but no more emotive than it had been before, although his thick eyebrows pinched together. “Seeing that you--Roman, was it?--had already stepped in, I decided that I need not expend energy on the altercation and could more effectively use my skills to escape before the guard arrived. Hearing that you had a similar intention and seeing that our interests were otherwise aligned, I elected to help you. Any other questions?”</p>
<p>There was a beat of silence before Roman grunted, “Wow, you talk like a textbook.”</p>
<p>“Thank you for the compliment.”</p>
<p>“Ooh, ooh! I have a question, kiddo.” Patton leaned forward in the saddle a bit as they were taking a sharp turn so that Frog could maintain balance. “Do you want to come with us?”</p>
<p>“I suppose that would be efficacious, although I’m surprised you’re not already traveling with more companions.” Logan’s calm manner of speaking almost made Roman miss the implications. They were looking right at each other and Roman softly shook his head ‘no’ hoping that the...elf?--Yes, the elf--would get the memo. </p>
<p>“Well, what do you mean by that?” Patton hummed, tilting his head like a confused puppy. Roman’s head shake only got more obvious and he gestured for Logan to stop talking. It didn’t work.</p>
<p>“Only that, as the crown prince, Roman should be having an armed guard at all times when outside the Palace.” The elf pulled to a sharp stop at the side gate. Currently, it was open for the festival-like season that Roman’s coronation was bringing to the kingdom. </p>
<p>The prince fought between his desire to make a mad dash through the opening into the country roads and sprawling farmland just beyond OR staying around long enough to make sure these two loudmouths didn’t blab about where he was going. He rounded on Patton first only to come face to face with a wide-eyed look of adoration and surprise. “You’re the <em>Prince</em>?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Patton, I am the Prince; now can we please talk about this later? I’d rather be a fortnight away from my father <em> before </em> he catches wind that I’m gone!” Roman whisper-shouted, gesturing to the big open gateway. They did, in fact, carry on traveling together for a good portion of the night until the Palace and city were a marginally distant feature on the horizon and--with the exception of Logan--everyone was ready to collapse. </p>
<p>“Alright,” Roman groaned, spreading out his cloak like a blanket before dropping back onto it. He sighed, letting go of all the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders as the group settled in on the side of the road. “What questions do you have?”</p>
<p>“When were you going to tell me you’re the Prince?” Patton cut right to the chase with a pout. He'd probably been stewing on that one for a while. </p>
<p>“Never?” Roman ended the word with a slightly apologetic smile. “It was never my intention to run into anyone. My father is <em> controlling, </em> to put it mildly, and I can’t risk anyone knowing I’m gone until I’m <em> actually </em> gone.”</p>
<p>“But you’re next in line for the throne! That’s a lot of responsibility and you’re just running away from it?” Patton’s scolding tone made the Prince wince and Logan jumped in on the third degree.</p>
<p>“I second his question. Your coronation is at the end of the month; certainly, there is or was a better time to leave the palace. If something happens to you, this whole kingdom would be figuratively thrown into chaos.”</p>
<p>“I don’t expect you to understand, Mr. Robot. And I’m not running away! I’m...” Roman’s shoulders slumped as he sat up, turning his stare into the little campfire Logan had been preparing. “I’m looking for my brother--my twin brother. I promised I’d protect him, that we would have each other's backs, but I failed him. Now is my <em> last chance </em> to find him.” Roman hugged his legs to his chest and fought back the tears he’d never felt secure enough to openly shed in the palace. “If I just abandon him to become king... what kind of person does that make me?”</p>
<p>“Gosh, kiddo.” Patton seemed to be searching for anything he could say but nothing came to him. They all lapsed into silence for a few moments, listening to the pop of the fire. “How--how old were you, if you don’t mind my asking?”</p>
<p>Roman looked over at him and took in the deep empathetic expression and for the first time in ten years, he actually let a tear slip in front of others. He was still quick to wipe it away as soon as possible, trying not to let it show in his voice. “We were twelve.”</p>
<p>“You were only a child, Roman. That’s...not your fault.” Patton placed a hand on his knee and Roman pulled back.</p>
<p>Logan stoked the fire and interjected his two cents: “As a monarch, Roman would have been able to take on most of the responsibilities of the state at that age, meaning that he would be considered a culpable adult.”</p>
<p>“Logan,” Patton’s eyebrows lifted in a stern half-smile that said everything he needed it to before he actually said it, “shut up.”</p>
<p>“No, he’s right.” Roman’s tail unwound from his leg finally and slammed into the ground with a feline agitation. “I gave my word and I didn’t keep it.” The Prince clenched his fists into the fabric of his pants. </p>
<p>Patton sat back and turned his attention to the fire as well; he twiddled his thumbs while trying to conjure up the words to make everything seem better. “I really don’t think that’s fair to you, kiddo. I know most big folks grow up fast but...”</p>
<p>It was then that Logan snapped a branch in half and tossed it into the flames, getting both of the others’ attention. “Perhaps with this new information, we should reevaluate the prior offer.” When he was met with silent stares, the elf continued. “Roman is the Prince of the kingdom and he appears to be determined to locate his brother regardless of the circumstances. You--I’m sorry I did not hear your name--”</p>
<p>“Patton.”</p>
<p>“You, Patton, are traveling for what reason?” Logan adjusted his glasses and waited for the halfling to speak. </p>
<p>“My patron, Charity, sent me out on a mission to find these people called Fragments and stop the Dream from dying.” He rubbed his neck a bit nervously and glanced over towards Roman before continuing. “I offered to go with Roman--er, his highness because I felt like I should?”</p>
<p>“You ‘felt’?” Logan prompted.</p>
<p>“I dunno, kiddo, this just <em> feels </em> like the right place to be.” The halfling crossed his legs and leaned forward, turning the focus onto Logan. “And why are you traveling alone?”</p>
<p>There was a beat of silence before Logan pulled a loosely bound sketchbook out of his pack. He laid it open where Roman and Patton could see it. The pages were <em> covered </em> in precise ink drawings depicting strange landscapes and apocalyptic imagery. Patton actually gasped at the image of a divine being torn open as she shielded mortals beneath her. The glimmer of horrified recognition in his eyes made Roman uneasy. Finally, Logan spoke, “I too have been sent on a mission by my god, Primus. The Dream that you mentioned, I believe it is the same as the one I am searching for to repair it.” Logan adjusted his glasses again, pointing to the massive hooded snake in one image, “The guardian is supposed to guide me...whatever that means. The words of divine beings are often...”</p>
<p>“Cryptic,” Patton finished. The two devout men looked at each other with an understanding nod. “Well, if I was following my feelings, what led you here, Logan? Surely it can’t be a coincidence that all three of us met like this.”</p>
<p>“You are correct in that estimation, Patton. The likelihood of tonight’s events being random are...infinitesimal.” He folded his hands together as he spoke, looking an awful lot like some of Roman’s old tutors. “One of my earlier visions reminded me of a fairy tale from this kingdom--”</p>
<p>The Prince started to tune out the conversation, too engrossed in the vivid images of the book until finally, he came to a page with a broken mirror where one shard had a very particular set of curved horns. His fingers lightly skimmed over the bottom before lifting up to trace the gentle arc of his own horns. They were his--they had to be. And then his attention skimmed over the image again, snagging features in a rough outline of an armored body although only a few were undoubtedly his own. Roman’s brow pinched only to be drawn from his rapt focus by Logan gently taking the book back. </p>
<p>“So, what is the verdict? Shall we continue to travel as a company?” The elf’s flat tone made it obvious what <em>he </em>thought was best. While Roman may have been inclined to disagree, that picture had gotten him curious. </p>
<p>The prince shifted forward, attentive to the conversation now in a way he hadn’t been before. “I do have one question: would this ‘guardian’ be able to help me find my brother?”</p>
<p>“Well, since the Fragments we’re looking for are people, kiddo--I, uh, mean--your highness, then... Possibly?” Patton looked over to Logan for some kind of reassurance and the elf nodded his agreement. </p>
<p>“Well, then I’m going at least that far with the both of you. But, before we take a rest for the night, stop calling me ‘your highness’, Patton. While we’re on the road...I’m just <em> Roman </em>.” There was something about saying that which felt astounding. Liberating! It was the freedom to do what he wanted with his life for the first time. </p>
<p>“Well then, it’s nice to meet you ‘just Roman’, I’m dad!” Patton was beaming wide as both Roman and Logan groaned. The Prince flopped onto his side, facing away from the much too pleased pint-sized punster. Logan, on the other hand, grunted that he was taking the first watch and that they should both get some sleep given that he did not need it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Charming as a Rattlesnake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Virgil needs a break. He keeps attracting the wrong sorts of 'friends'.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> Run. Just keep running! Ignore your legs hurting; ignore your lungs burning. Just keep running, Virgil, and don’t stop for a goddamn minute! </em> He screamed at himself while breaking through the undergrowth in a mad dash. The beast was hot on his heels. He could feel its breath as it charged after him. One false step and his life was <em>over</em>. Virgil gasped one desperate prayer after another under his breath. He’d never been the religious type but damn if it wasn’t the time to pray. </p>
<p>His foot caught on a tree root. </p>
<p>He tripped. </p>
<p>Virge dropped into a huddle, arms shielding his head and waiting for the tusks to rip him apart. The loud meaty thud of impacting flesh met his ears but, surprisingly, he wasn’t being maimed. </p>
<p>The teen cracked open an eye to see exactly what fresh Hell awaited him. Whoever they were, they were fairly tall with a long, mace-ended tail, curling horns and skin which was probably rotted that sickly shade of green underneath all the forest grime and soot caked on it. They were holding back the boar by its tusks, braced against the struggle and...giggling?</p>
<p>Virgil watched in transfixed disgust as this <em>thing </em>that stopped the boar dead in its tracks started wailing on the animal until it was half-unrecognizable carrion mush and blood-soaked up to their elbows. He stared, slowly pushing himself upright in preparation to run for his life again even though he was pretty sure he’d faint if he tried to stand. </p>
<p>Not that he needed to test that theory. The figure glanced his way and between the pointed, interlocking teeth in a demented, gore-splattered grin and the demonic-green glowing eyes, Virgil just dropped on sight. When he woke up, his head was pounding and the fringe of his hair that normally hung into his eyes was floating. No, wait, Virgil was upside down. The pressure on his ankles hit him next and he whimpered, pulling his arms into his chest from where they’d been dangling. Every movement in his hands and shoulders made him want to start crying--it all hurt and the skin around his fingertips had bruised from the burst blood vessels. His heartbeat was throbbing through his head and red leaked in around the corners of his vision--not that he could see much with how damn dark everything was. </p>
<p>He started pulling at his fingers, trying to grab onto that sensation of magic and tug it out into burning threads. While he floundered for his strength against a wave of vertigo, Virgil caught a nasally voice chattering away and the scent of burning flesh. </p>
<p>“Well, what do you suggest we do with him, hmm? Certainly isn’t enough meat on a human that skinny to make the eating worth it...What, no! That would be too boring~ Oh, don’t give me that look!”</p>
<p><em> Oh god</em>, Virgil’s heart started pumping faster at the very notion of being slaughtered--Oh, fuck, that’s why he was hung up by his ankles. They were going to slit his throat and drain all his blood out. Oh no! Oh god! He started moving more, the swinging sensation accompanied by a wrenching pop in his leg that forced a howl of pain out of his throat. Virgil hissed curses under his breath as he aimed for the rope holding him up. It was looped over part of the cavern ceiling--he was in a cave of some kind and fuck did he ever hate the dark--and just close enough that by slashing his hand through the air, his arcane threads were able to latch onto and then dissolve the hemp holding him aloft. </p>
<p>The jolt of weightlessness in the fall hit Virgil almost as hard as the ground did and he let out another pathetic whimper. His head was pounding and his mouth tasted like copper, some blood dripping out of his nose. He rolled onto his side and hugged himself, focusing on stopping the world from spinning before shifting onto his stomach to crawl away as the knot around his ankles was too tight and too risky to dissolve. There was a vague glimmer of firelight towards one end of the cave--probably where that voice had come from--and a cold breeze from the other. He defaulted to the breeze and got to struggling. The sharp rock bit into his fingers and palms as Virgil pulled his body along. He wasn’t that physically strong, though, and every movement of his hip sent a fresh, needling pain all up and down his left side. </p>
<p>Then the heavy footsteps clanking up the stone from behind him drowned all that pain with another jolt of adrenaline. Virgil crawled like his life depended on it and actually got halfway out of the room before a boot dropped on his back and knocked the air out of his lungs. “Agh!”</p>
<p>“And where do you think you’re going, toothpick?” It was the voice from earlier, only there was a deep growl under that playful teasing tone that made Virgil shiver. A heavy thud next to his right ear made the human jump, just able to see the outline of a morning star about the size of his head landed on the stone. “Aww, what’s tha’ matter widdle twink? You scared?” The boot lifted off his back but a hand clasped around Virgil’s left ankle and lightly pulled.</p>
<p>He screamed. </p>
<p>Something sharp grazed the skin by his ankles between his flesh and the rope. “And you dislocated your hip too, that’s a real shame.” </p>
<p>This motherfucker sounded <em>smug </em>about that and Virgil’s magic began boiling through his blood in a seething panic, tears blurring his already hazy tunnel vision. The stones around his fingers lit up in the purple illumination from under his skin as did the shock of hair that formed Virgil’s bangs. The moment that morning star lifted from beside his head and Virgil felt his leg lose contact with the ground, he twisted onto his side to blast whoever this asshole was in the face. The human got through the activation of the spell--a rolling ball of flames in his hands--seeing that this was the same <em>thing </em> that stopped the boar, when their wide green eyes flashed with magic of their own. </p>
<p>Virgil could taste the crackle of power in the air at the same moment this creature uttered a Counterspell. It was like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him all over again and any pretense of solving this with the arcane arts went out the window. The flames on his hands spluttered out and his whole body jolted like he’d just been dunked into ice water. It felt as cold too. Virgil lashed out. He started fighting, trying to claw at his captor’s eyes and face in a blur of wild adrenaline movement. Kicking and cursing as he wrested for freedom.</p>
<p>Whoever they were, they were <em>strong. </em>Stronger than a human. Virgil found himself pinned down on his back with the morning star menacingly pressed into his right shoulder as the fucker’s other hand got him around the throat and one of his arms was pinned underneath a boot with his thighs restrained by this fucker’s tail. </p>
<p>“Hey, there~ Nice and easy, spitfire.” That teasing twinge had turned into a low rumble although the smile was now impossibly wide on their face. And sharp. Way too sharp--too close. “So, you can do magic too, huh? That makes you pretty useful. I’m going to let you go now, and you aren’t going to try anything cute or I’ll split your head open like I’m making scrambled eggs, got it?” The pressure on his throat let up enough that Virgil should have been able to breathe, but he was still in full panic mode and really only heard half of what this person was saying. The weight of his own shaking fear was enough to keep him from moving again as whoever or <em>whatever </em> this was got off of him, vanishing further into the darkness and practically invisible were it not for the glowing points of their green eyes.</p>
<p>“Let’s see what we can do about that leg then.” Virgil shivered but didn’t have the energy to shy away from the claws gently scraping up under his robes and prodding at his left hip. He did, however, have enough energy to curse and growl. The sorcerer bit his tongue when this--fuck it--demon lifted his leg up at the knee and braced it on its shoulder, grabbing his waist with the other and hand using its own leg to essentially force the joint back into place. Virgil released a silent scream as the last bit of fight or flight he had gone into a whole body tensing spams. </p>
<p>He was gasping for air with his head spinning when the demon hauled him off the ground and up over one shoulder. It was hard to process what was happening until after he’d been put down near the fire and had his own blanket from his pack wrapped around his shoulders--fucker went through his things. There were the remains of the boar on a spit which it seemed this thing had been roasting before Virgil’s little failed escape. He blinked, warily trying to piece together who this demon had been talking to as there was no one else in this little section of the cave. If there had been more than one, wouldn’t they both have tried to restrain him? “What the hell is going on?” he rasped, not at all shocked by the roughness of his voice. </p>
<p>“A lot of bull shit,” the demon supplied with a leer. “My name is Remus by the way; I couldn’t introduce myself before you practically dropped dead--Well, I thought you’d bit the big one anyway. Wouldn’t be the first time someone died of fright when meeting me!” It was way too fucking cheery. Or, well, not exactly an ‘it’ Virgil supposed. Now that he could actually see, this guy was clearly a Teifling, not a true demon, and by his manner of dress, voice, and that monstrous strength from earlier, Virgil was willing to bet this person was some kind of Eldrige Knight or another magically inclined melee fighter. Certainly not a Barbarian who relied on very little armor and only blind animal rage to get them through altercations. </p>
<p>Virgil remained quiet, glaring at <em> Remus </em>with a deep vitriolic grudge in the bend of his shadowed eyebrows. He was momentarily distracted by a slithering sensation underneath his skin. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was warm and helped to slow his heart rate. Virgil cupped the side of his neck where the sensation ended in a light pressure. He didn’t want this Tiefling to see the snake tattooed into his skin moving around. Especially not since Remus was at least a mid-tier magic-user.</p>
<p>Of course, those flaming green eyes snapped right to focus on the movement and his smile twitched. The human needed to distract him; <em> Ugh, quick! Ask a question! </em> “You mentioned my being a magic-user was helpful for you?”</p>
<p>“Hmm? OH, right!” Remus dropped onto the rock floor across the fire from Virgil as his tail rattled over the stone with a feline agitation. “My brother thinks that we could use magic to find our way to the Palace, but we’re a bit stuck on directions--not to mention all our skills in transportation magic are...” he lifted his hand and the morning star Virgil had been menaced with earlier popped into existence in the Teifling’s palm, “limited.”</p>
<p>“Your brother?” Virgil glanced around, trying to peer past the firelight to catch any shadow moving in the darkness. </p>
<p>“Yep! He’s right here,” Remus pointed at the spot next to him which, as far as Virgil could tell, was just empty space. “He’s the smart ass between the two of us, honestly, but he’s a bit shy so don’t worry if he won’t talk to you.”</p>
<p><em> Ah, okay, so this guy’s completely cracked? </em> The possibility that either the Tiefling was hallucinating or that Virgil couldn't see an invisible person unnerved him back into momentary silence. He was starting to get the feeling that he wasn’t going to get out of this situation. Virgil tightened his free hand into a fist, closing it around his thumb as a way to calm himself down before his anxiety got any worse.  <em> First</em>, he repeated those old instructions, <em> run through what you know: he stopped a pissed off, glorified pig from killing you. Then he thought you were dead and was apparently okay eating your corpse. He can use magic--teleportation or spatial manipulation magic--so he’s very dangerous. He’s strong and can physically overpower you. He either has an invisible companion OR he’s not...mentally stable. I’m screwed</em>.</p>
<p>Virgil wiped his nose and tried very hard to dismiss that last thought, “So, if I help you find the place you’re looking for, you aren’t going to hurt me?”</p>
<p>Remus’ smile lit up in something more like genuine excitement than sadistic glee and Virgil had to suppress a shudder. “Cross my hearts and hope to rot!” The Tiefling made a gesture over the torn chainmail shirt he wore, scouring the already damaged armor in three places on his torso. This was the first Virgil ever heard of Tieflings having more hearts than normal. That might also explain the inhuman strength if this guy was a freak among freaks. </p>
<p>Virgil’s eye twitched, chastising himself for that thought too. If anyone was a freak here, it was him. “I--”</p>
<p>“So what’s with the moving tattoo?” Remus cut the human off, toying with the corner of his mustache.</p>
<p>All Virgil could really do in that instance was clap a hand over his mouth in panic. He wasn’t allowed to talk about it. <em> He </em>didn’t want Virgil to talk about it. The longer the silence stretched on from the question, the more agitated Remus seemed to become. His eyes smoldered a deep shade of green that was almost hypnotic. Virgil looked away quickly, not knowing exactly what that look was for but feeling the swelling shock of magic in the air. There was a rush of movement and when the human glanced up again, Remus was practically nose to nose with him. </p>
<p>Virgil let out a squeak of surprise and fell backward, arms dropping to catch himself on instinct only to realize he’d exposed his neck. He wasn’t given the chance to hide the golden mark on his skin, what with Remus’ seizing him by the collar of his cloak and yanking Virgil half off the ground to get a better look at it. Then, Remus licked him on the neck and <em>that </em>was the line. “Gods, fuck! Personal space!” Virgil snapped, grabbing one of the Tiefling’s horns and shoving his face away as much as he could. It wasn’t a lot but Remus wasn’t exactly resisting the push, green eyes narrowed in concentration. </p>
<p>“Oh, ho? That’s not <em>your </em>magic, is it?” they broke apart, Remus giving Virgil some space as the human swiftly wiped the side of his neck while grimacing. When he again refused to answer, the Tiefling sighed and pulled off a strip of roasted pork to offer him. “Here. You were out for about an hour and it’s almost nightfall anyway. Now, you don’t have to say anything, just nod <em> if you even can</em>, alright?”</p>
<p>Virgil’s brow pinched, taking in the abrupt shift in behavior. Remus appeared to be waiting for him to nod or say something, so Virgil gave a noncommittal grunt and took the meat, finally starting to feel some of his appetite come back after this emotionally taxing day. </p>
<p>“Do you know who placed that Geas on you?”</p>
<p>Virgil choked, coughing to get the bite he’d started swallowing out of his throat. His pack was next to him, he realized, so he started digging through it for his water skin to help clear his airway. Remus waited, unblinking, through the whole ordeal. “It’s not--” the sorcerer started, biting his lip before continuing. “It’s not a Geas. It doesn’t make me do anything and it doesn’t hurt me.”</p>
<p>“Then why did you hide it?” Remus pressed, suddenly very serious and very monotone. That was almost more unsettling than the constant nasally teasing. It felt like his stare was peeling back the layer of Virgil’s skin, trying to look into his mind directly and that was <em>not </em>okay.</p>
<p>“Because I’m not supposed to talk about... I’m not supposed to talk about it, okay!?”</p>
<p>“Ya see, with answers like that, it makes me think you’re lying.”</p>
<p>Virgil huddled himself deeper into the blankets and was about to retort when he felt it move again. This time, it sucked the air out of his lungs and the pressure of the snake’s head moved from resting on his neck to sliding across his nose; it ended just over his right eye and Virgil’s vision flattened to just his left side.</p>
<p><em> He </em>was looking out of Virgil’s eye now--that’s why the human had lost his depth perception. With the coil of gilded ink around his throat, Virgil didn’t really feel like talking either. It wasn’t that he couldn’t, but it still vaguely felt like he had a real snake looped around his neck only without the squeeze.</p>
<p>He watched Remus’ expression shift from cold to curious to enraptured. “Your eye changed color!” The Tiefling not only shouted but pointed as well, his tail quickly swishing back and forth in a blur of excitement. </p>
<p>“Um, yeah, I wouldn't know. Never really had a mirror for this.”</p>
<p>“Can I touch it?”</p>
<p>Virgil winced, “What? No! You cannot touch my eye; that’s--” He blinked at how Remus deflated a little and then looped back around to a spaced-out expression. “Uh, Remus?”</p>
<p>“Hold on, my brother is talking,” his attention shifted fully to another spot in the room and Virgil tried looking that way as well. Sure He might be using Virgil’s eye at this point, but He was older and better at magic so He might see something the human missed. </p>
<p>Remus broke the silence with a soft grunt, turning his attention back to Virgil and the tattoo. “He wants to know what kind of magic that is if it’s not a Geas. I’m inclined to agree.”</p>
<p>“I...don't know actually. I was never told what it is, only what it does.” Virgil responded softly, rolling his fingers over the mark and wincing when it moved again. The pressure was right on his ear now and a thought that wasn’t his drifted into Virgil’s mind. <em> Bring the stranger home</em>. Virgil shivered as the snake wound its way down his skin again and looped itself back onto his shoulder where it belonged. “But,” the human sighed, “you can meet the person who made it.”</p>
<p>Remus lifted an eyebrow and blinked. After a moment of leaning towards one side as if someone was whispering in his ear too, the Tiefling righted himself and hummed. “Alrighty then! We’re going to go with you to wherever that snake-eyed guy is and then you’re going to help us find our way to the Palace. Deal?” He stuck out a black-clawed hand and Virgil hesitantly shook it. </p>
<p>“Okay, deal...but--uh--this person is tricky. <em> Slippery</em>, even, and you won’t likely get the whole truth. So, just, don’t trust anything you hear at face value.” Virgil wasn’t sure why he wanted to warn this objectively terrifying man about Him, but he did. Anyway, why in the Hell did Virge keep attracting the scary sort of people? Why couldn’t he ever run into a regular or even a pleasant stranger?</p>
<p>“Okay! Now finish your pork.” The Tiefling took his hand back from the shake and started digging into his own dinner with the same speedy, messy eating that Virgil had to train himself out of. Did Remus almost starve too? That was something Virgil only saw in the desperate, isolated, or terrified. He couldn’t help but wonder while he ate. </p>
<hr/>
<p>He couldn’t sleep soundly in the dark, even with the low rumble of Remus’ snoring to confirm that he was indeed still there. Virgil twitched in his bedroll, pulling at his fingers again until he had many arcane threads to work with, stitching them together and looping them around in a practice of his spell lattice. He repeated the knot he’d learned from his mother over and over again as well, though he never let it stay for long. It reminded him too much of what he was running from. </p>
<p>Occasionally he’d feel a throb of heat from his shoulder, letting Virgil know that he was being monitored. “Looked after” as <em> He </em>liked to put it. Yeah, sure. The sorcerer dispelled the threads but kept the power in his palms, focusing on an old melody his mother used to sing when he couldn’t fall asleep. Her voice emanated from his palms very softly and as Virgil lifted them up to his ears, her singing was the only sound he heard. It was a Minor Illusion, sure, but a soothing one. </p>
<p>Curled up like that, in a half-asleep state, morning came faster than the anxious human anticipated. Remus’ groan was loud enough to punch through the soundscape Virgil made as the Tiefling rolled onto his stomach and stretched in a very feline manner. It was almost cute if he could forget about how terrifyingly powerful this green-skinned weirdo was. It was also around that time Virgil realized this guy didn’t sleep in his armor--Hell, he didn’t sleep in anything. </p>
<p>“Oh, my gods!” the human balked and yanked his stare back to the wall, prompting a laugh from Remus.</p>
<p>“Good morning to you too, gloomy.” Remus snapped his fingers and was instantly fully dressed, stifling his yawn into a beaming leer. “I’m so glad you decided not to run off last night! Hunting you down would’ve burned so much daylight.” </p>
<p>That was hardly reassuring; Virgil grumbled under his breath about how stupid an idea leading Remus right to Him was. “Alright, whatever.” He huffed, blowing his bangs out of his eyes as he started packing up his kit again. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today, so I hope that monster strength of yours has enough endurance to back it up.”</p>
<p>“Oh, baby, I can go <em>all night</em>. Trust me.” Remus chortled with a sultry purr that made Virgil grimace. Fucker had the nerve to wink at him too. </p>
<p>“Yeah, you're not my type--so can it with the shitty seduction attempts.” </p>
<p>That was the wrong thing to say. Remus’ head dropped to the side in a vacant grin-stare expression; then for the next <em>ten minutes</em>, he was using every opportunity he could to spout off obscene innuendos and come-ons. Some of them were genuinely funny and Virgil had to force himself not to crack a smile as they finally got out of the cave and into the early dawn air. “Incidentally, what is your type, spinner?”</p>
<p>“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”</p>
<p>“Nope!” Remus laughed, folding his arms behind his head as they walked; Virgil noticed how...relaxed the big guy seemed compared to last night. His tail, for instance, bobbed as he walked, end curled upward despite the weight. Maybe they really just did get off on the wrong foot before, because despite how annoying he was being, Remus focused on the kinds of jokes that got a snort out of Virgil. </p>
<p>"Fuck it! Why not," the human decided that taking this whole journey with tense shoulders would give him a migraine, so he too forced himself into a relaxed posture. Virgil opted to mull over Remus’ question in the silence that followed. “Well, for starters, they can’t be controlling but I’d still need to feel secure around them.”</p>
<p>Remus perked up, looking down and to the side briefly as if listening to someone else. That brother of his maybe? “Someone that could protect you, right?”</p>
<p>“Not really. I can protect myself--” Remus’ bark of laughter cut him off and Virgil flushed up to his ears. “You caught me after a shitty day! Shut up!”</p>
<p>“Sure, sure~ and the boar chasing you through the woods wasn’t a threat?” There was this teasing gleam in his eyes that Virgil had seen when he was younger. It was the look older siblings flashed when they were poking fun and that thought alone made his heart clench harder. It was hard to tell how much older Remus was--if he was older at all--and the fact his ‘brother’ may well be half his height... What happened to this guy that made him so scary? “Hey, spider-bites, you’re staring.”</p>
<p>“Shit, sorry--just got lost in thought there for a second.” Virgil looked away quickly, trying to dismiss his impulsive empathy and dig himself back into that mean, callous shell which saved his life on so many occasions. He didn’t need to know Remus’ story, and he didn’t care--</p>
<p>“What were you thinking about?”</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>Remus hummed with a shrug, “I think about lots of things too, all the time, but no one really wants to hear them. They’re pretty fucked up. But, if you’ve got a screw or too loose, I won’t mind listening.” His grin dropped into a thin line and with how wide his eyes seemed to be at any given moment, it gave Remus a very hollow, almost <em>broken </em>expression. “They can’t be much worse than mine.”</p>
<p>Silence probably wasn’t good for this guy’s mental stability. “I was...just thinking about how old you are.”</p>
<p>“What?” There was a laugh in his tone as if that had caught Remus off guard.</p>
<p>“Well--you just got this ‘big brother’ vibe around you and, I mean, you’ve got the mustache so it’s kinda hard to tell.” Virgil trailed off, hunching his shoulders and grimacing. “Nevermind, it’s a stupid thing to wonder about.”</p>
<p>“I’m twenty-two,” Remus grunted, leaning into Virgil’s space with a crooked leer. “And how old are you, since we’re swapping details.”</p>
<p>The human swatted at the hand Remus tried to sneak onto his shoulder, reclaiming his space with a sharp frown. “I’m nineteen.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his patchwork robe. “From how sunken your eyes are I would’ve thought you were in your thirties or something.”</p>
<p>“Humph.” Remus dropped his arms to his sides and his whole posture changed. He wasn’t some random wildman in busted-up armor; he walked like a goddamn prince and Virgil’s whiplash must’ve shown on his face because Remus <em>smirked </em>at him. “How about now?”</p>
<p>“Fourties.” Virgil was able to keep his tone flat despite his bewilderment.</p>
<p>Remus visibly deflated and growled, “You’re no fun,” at Virgil, falling back into step with him as they trekked deeper into the forest. Their path stretched onwards for hours. The air grew thicker as they went, and the gentle downward slope of the valley grew steeper and rockier. Very soon, an unnatural silence settled over the stagnant air and Virgil breathed a little easier. He was closer to home. Well, at least until he remembered the big argument he had with... Oh, fuck, was He still mad? Oh, dammit. Oh no.</p>
<p>“You’re super weird.” Remus interrupted his spiraling--something Virgil noted this virtual stranger was growing increasingly more effective at noticing and redirecting. “First the creepy forest mellows you out like a Pit Fiend on its fifth puff and then you tense up worse than corpse beetles under direct light. What gives?”</p>
<p>“What a visual,” Virgil muttered, trying to redirect his energy as they passed the first marker. It was a set of two trees that grew over the road, twisting around each other in a braid-patterned archway. From the ground, the branches almost looked like interlocking roots or snake scales depending on how close a person was to the center of the road, and at the tallest point, it was a good thirty feet high. “I kinda...had a fight with the person we were talking about last night. That’s why I wasn’t,” Virgil cleared his throat, gesturing towards the warped woods just beyond the knotted trees, “in there.”</p>
<p>“Huh. Welp, this place is spooky. I love it!”</p>
<p>“You sure you’re not the weird one here?” Virgil snarked, fumbling in his bag to pull out a wide flat scale about the size of his palm. At first glance, it seemed like a dragon scale, but Virgil knew better. “If we try to go all the way to the Meeting Stones we’re going to have to get by all the trials meant to kill off the ‘unworthy’ sort, so... Since you’ve got an invitation, He shouldn’t mind me using this.”</p>
<p>“What is it?” Remus leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at the scale, lightly poking it with one of his black claws. </p>
<p>“It’s how we find Him,” Virgil answered as unhelpfully as possible, ignoring the pout flashed his way as he began to walk again. The human kept his eyes on the scale in his palm, feeling which side felt the heaviest and following that direction. Of course, it led them right through the swampy parts of the forest. Many of the hostile plants and animals made their dislike of Virgil and Remus known but the ones that did attack never went after Virgil. </p>
<p>They kept having to stop to drive off stalking gators or creeping tree ents with bursts of magic--or in Remus’ case the occasional swing from his weapon or tail. Damn, could Remus ever hit hard with his tail. Virgil decided to never stand behind the Knight without assurances that he wasn’t going to get his bones broken. All in all, it was late evening by the time they’d gotten to a massive twisting tree which seemed to have grown out of a large bedrock outcropping. Maybe in a few thousand years, this would be the top of a mountain, but for now, it was the only high and dry ground for miles. </p>
<p>Remus whistled, hefting his muck-splattered mace up onto his shoulder. “That’s one big tree.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well...” Virgil trailed off. He’d always thought of it more like a tower--the dwelling of some intentionally enigmatic supernatural entity that much-preferred solitude in nature towards the bustle of mortal company. </p>
<p>“Well?”</p>
<p>“I kind of live in it?” He shrugged, walking towards the roots and tucking the scale away. He knew which ones to step on so that the tree wouldn’t throw him off or try to crush him. “Don’t step or lean on anything I don’t and you won’t be pummeled into fertilizer.”</p>
<p>“Do you think my demon blood would poison anything I was spread on?” Remus muttered idly only for Virgil to turn and give him a concerned look. “Oh, honey, don’t go that pale on me. That was <em> far </em> from the worst thought up here.” He tapped the side of his curling horns, making sure to follow in Virgil’s steps. </p>
<p>Remus got all the way up to the same root Virgil perched on before the human so much as blinked. They were practically chest to chest and Virgil had to lean back into the tree to keep his balance, effectively trapped for a brief moment. He hadn’t realized how <em>warm </em> Remus was until just now. It was an odd mix of tense and soothing. “So, what now?” the Tiefling’s voice was low and Virgil felt the vibrations of it in his ribs.</p>
<p>He got lost in the pain of Remus’ green eyes for a second. </p>
<p><em>Focus, idiot,</em> Virgil chastised himself. “I-uh...Are you okay?”</p>
<p>Remus smiled sadly and shook his head.</p>
<p>For what it was worth, Virgil hoped that he’d get the help he needed. The human grabbed onto Remus’ forearm to use as a brace, climbing up into one of the lower branches. “This way.” He didn’t look behind him again, making the spiraling ascent to the crown of the tree. As they went, there was a low rattling hiss. Flashes of gold in the tree’s tallest branches must’ve caught Remus’ attention because he muttered a curse. “Keep moving. Don’t show any fear or you won’t leave here alive.”</p>
<p>“Well, that’s not ominous at all!” Remus started laughing, a short staccato gasping kind of laugh that was half-way between nervous and ecstatic. The laughter only got stronger as they reached the top, the coils more visible looping around the still higher branches. At their thickest point, the coils were about as tall as Virgil was and the scales glittered like the stars of a swirling nebula in the magically influenced darkness this high in the boughs. The flash of yellow eyes peering down on them both stood out against the darkness with the same grace as a pair of twin moons. Remus abruptly stopped laughing. </p>
<p>“I-- I’m home, Deceit.” Virgil flinched at the waver in his own voice, going stiff as the massive serpent lowered itself to the scarred wood beneath them. He also tried not to be irritated by the forked tongue flicking in his direction. </p>
<p>“<em>Did you have fun?</em>” The voice was mangled by the serpentine mouth it sprung from, but it was still recognizably Deceit.</p>
<p>“I--uh--”</p>
<p> “<em>Get those bad feelings off of your chest, Panic?</em>” Patronizing as always, Deceit shifted to loop both Virgil and Remus in a coil, still giving them both some space to move about, but not a lot. The shifting of his scales over the tree bark rattled against Virgil’s senses making him grit his teeth to stop them from chattering. Remus glanced at Virgil with a lifted brow and a flat expression. It was only then the human realized he’d never actually given Remus his name...Not that he really had an incentive to. </p>
<p>Still, the question had to be answered. “I didn’t.” He knew better than to lie. Deceit could taste lies and it would be rather pointless. </p>
<p>“Your name is Panic?” </p>
<p>Virgil glanced over to Remus who seemed to be smirking. “Got something to say about it?” There was a warning in his tone that was very different from how he’d spoken before. This was the one thing he wasn’t going to take shit about. Virgil’s eyes were glowing as his magic sparked. The veins around his eyes stood out against his skin as the power spread through his face. Remus didn’t visibly react, but it was obvious where his focus gathered in the points of his fingers like a crackling green flame. </p>
<p>“<em>Now, children,</em>” Deceit hissed, “<em>please burn my forest down in a meaningless spat fueled by trauma.</em>”</p>
<p>Virgil slapped a lid on his power with enough force to quicken his breathing, looking away from Remus as he hugged himself through his robe. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>“So, I’m guessing that makes you the boss, Mr. Snake.” Remus moved forward, craning his head back to take in the looming head of the golden serpent. He pointed his weapon at Deceit with unwarranted confidence. “And since you’re the boss around here, that means it’s your magic I’ve been sniffing since I got into these wonderland woods, huh?!”</p>
<p>“<em>Ahh, aren’t you the proud one. Do you think you’d be able to overpower me, then; is that where this swagger comes from?</em>” Deceit lowered his head and opened his mouth in a laughing hiss. Remus just blinked at him and started laughing too, putting his weapon back onto his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Nope~ It’s just my Mother is much more terrifying than you are, Corn-scales.” His laugh was getting more and more unhinged as his expression changed to something manic. “Though if you did squash me into a fine green paste, she’d still be the one I’d worry about. Hah! ha”</p>
<p>“<em>Hmm, how boring.</em>” Deceit didn’t <em>sound </em>bored to Virgil, but he kept his mouth shut, scowling at the rippling glow passing through the snakeskin. <em>"Well, in that case, I think we should get someplace more comfortable to talk. Not that hanging out on top of a tree and getting neck cramps isn't comfortable.</em>” The massive form of the snake shifted into light and rapidly shrunk inward until a statuesque man stood in its place. He was still alarmingly tall at a little over 6’5” and half of his angular face still studded by scales. The outfit, though, was something Virgil had never seen before.</p>
<p>Deceit was dressed in all black and gold: embroidered silk leggings tucked into thigh-high soft leather boots, a matte finish to his doublet shimmered with finely detailed leaf and scale imagery done up in metallic-looking thread, and over top of this was a riding cloak that had a ruffled layer just below his shoulders and fanned out by his ankles, the interior of which looked like gold-colored velvet. He even had a top hat.</p>
<p>“Wow,” Virgil mumbled. “You are unbelievably extra at every chance you get, huh?”</p>
<p>Deceit flashed a sour look in his direction, turning his full attention back to Remus. His cane was made of black-stained wood and gold depicting the same hooded serpent he’d just been. Deceit looped the hook around Remus’ neck, pulling the Tiefling closer to him. “Now, let me have a better look at you, hm?” He grabbed the Tiefling by his jaw, keeping Remus’ head tilted back slightly as the snake-man looked down at him appraisingly. “Oh! <em>That</em> Romulus’ boy. I knew your features were familiar.”</p>
<p>“How do you know my dad?” Remus grunted when Deceit let him go. </p>
<p>The snake-man didn’t bother answering, pivoting on his soft-soled boots and flaring out the velvet cape he was wearing. On the whole, Virgil didn't understand why Deceit dressed like a nobleman, playing up wealth and power with jewelry and satin. Who was he trying to impress out in the middle of a damn swamp anyway?</p>
<p>Deceit tapped the head of his staff against the tree trunk and murmured. “If you please, open up.” There was a pause before druidic magic thrummed through the wood, causing the crown to gradually split open, revealing a spiral staircase leading down through the trunk and into a series of organically grown rooms lit by glowing fungus and crystal lanterns charged in moonlight. “Now then, I’m sure you don’t drink tea.”</p>
<p>“Never had it, actually. I’ve mostly drunk booze and blood.” Remus casually walked after Deceit leaving Virgil to bring up the rear as the three filtered down into the kitchen area. Instead of sitting at the table itself, Virgil pulled up onto the counter and got himself comfortable while still being close enough to be part of the conversation. </p>
<p>Remus was a bit distracted by the living wood making up the home. Nothing in the furniture was carved, rather all meticulously grown and tended with cushions supplied by lichen and mycelium among animal skins and other organic materials. In fact, aside from what they were wearing, nothing in the home could be called a ‘trade good’. Even the furs hadn’t been extensively preserved. </p>
<p>“Panic, if you would be so kind.” Deceit handed Virgil a stone-shaped teapot filled with water and dried leaves. The teen huffed and sparked his magic up again, coiling purple energy swirling into a soft flame that heated the pot in his hands. Satisfied that the tea was boiling, Deceit turned back to Remus with an uncomfortably wide smirk. “Last night you’d asked Panic about my mark, yes?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. It moved and then his eye turned into yours,” Remus tapped the left side of his face, indicating the serpentine features still on Deceit’s face. </p>
<p>“Of course, even I don’t know how it works.”</p>
<p>Remus scoffed, “Bull shit.” </p>
<p>“I jest.” Deceit drummed his fingers along the tabletop with a sinister hum. “It’s a bit of meta magic I cooked up over the years. The exact spellwork is proprietary, privileged information, our highness. It’s not like I go around sharing my secrets without certain assurances.”</p>
<p>The Tiefling stayed silent, his gaze piercing. While Virgil wasn’t able to see Deceit’s expression from his angle, the human had no doubt that these two monsters were in a stare-off that would leave a regular person shaken to their core. All he could muster was a barely interested grunt that the tea was done to interrupt the tension. </p>
<p>“So, we’d be trading secrets, then?” Remus chuckled, “The things I could tell you about the Rotten Court.”</p>
<p>“I’ve no interest in the organization of demons and their armies. But, I’d like to stress that I’m a... family man. I help my own. Exclusively.” Deceit took the pot from Virgil and poured both himself and Remus a cup of tea before setting the pot down on a stone slab. “So, here’s my offer. Give me your name and join my family. Then, anything you need: information, assistance, revenge, reassurance, etc. I’d be willing to provide it.”</p>
<p>Deceit pulled off one of his gloves, the same kind of snake tattoo that was on Virgil slithered out of the deceiver's sleeve and came to a rest on his open palm, waiting for a handshake. Remus looked between the outstretched hand and Virgil. The teen responded by cupping his neck again, mimicking the movement from last night. He pursed his lips, bunching up his mustache into his nose. “One question first, will I be able to pick my new name, and will this...restrict me in any way?</p>
<p>“Oh absolutely, I’m such a controlling father,” Deceit hissed, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. “I’ll know where you are relative to me, your emotional or physical state, and if I choose to focus on you and you <em>permit </em> me, I will be able to borrow your senses. I also cannot silence you. Nor would I have reason to. I only ask that you do not...speak frivolously of me.”</p>
<p>“A guy who likes his privacy, I got it. But I ain’t calling ya daddy, DeeDee.” Remus took Deceit’s hand and choked on air before he could go on rambling. Between their palms was a brilliant golden light. Virgil looked away. He didn’t need to see the pain etched onto Remus’ face to know what the older man was going through. It felt like molten metal the first time, being injected directly into his veins. Even if he fought it, Virgil doubted that he could have resisted. Deceit was that much more powerful.</p>
<p>Maybe Remus’ struggle would be in stopping his body from trying to resist. There was a lot of energy flying around the room. Virgil had to close his eyes to stop the green and yellow auras spiraling everywhere from making him ill. The teen curled up on himself, trying to focus on his breathing and <em> not </em>reacting to the agony. It took longer than when Deceit branded him three years ago. Remus was stronger than Virgil had been at that age, after all, and maybe the damage to his ego made it harder to bind him. The human could only guess as he cracked his eyes open and saw the Tiefling laying on his side, cradling his arm and curled up in a hissing ball of pain. Deceit patted the injured man on the shoulder, massaging an earthy magic through the green skin around the new golden mark to soothe the pain away. </p>
<p>Virgil realized then that, while he knew the Tiefling’s name, it was hard to say now. Like he had to really think about it to get his mouth to make the word. “You okay...Remus?” He bit his tongue when Deceit flashed him a disappointed look. “I mean... uh, Hey, man what is your name going to be, and are you good?”</p>
<p>That unhinged laughter started again as Virgil’s traveling companion sat up in a loopy state. It wasn’t the magic that did that. At least, not unless Deceit changed something in the last three years. “I’m Mania and I feel <em> great</em>. Heh hehe he he... That almost tickled as bad as what Mother would do when we misbehaved. What a <em> rush</em>!”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t sound good to me.” Virgil slid off the counter and knelt in front of Mania, giving the Tiefling a poke on the forehead, right between his horns. </p>
<p>“I’ll be fine~” he giggled, grabbing Virgil around the waist while still slouching towards one side in an odd attempt at cuddling. The human just sighed and started petting the surprisingly fluffy hair on Mania’s head. </p>
<p>“Welcome to the family, Mania,” Deceit cut in on the moment, taking both other men’s hands and lifting them to their feet. “It’s been a long day of traveling for you both, go ahead and have your tea then off to bed with you.”</p>
<p>“Okay~” Mania down the whole cup quickly before making a face and gagging. </p>
<p>Virgil poured himself a cup and took it a lot slower, wandering up an auxiliary staircase and leading his new roommate along. There was very little privacy on the whole in Deceit’s house, but enough that Virgil wouldn’t have to see Mania’s bare ass again in the morning. “Here’s your bed and that’s your closet, dresser, nightstand. Toilet’s at the bottom of the stairs, first door towards the left--you’ll know it because it’s one of the only rooms that actually <em>has </em>a door and the interior is entirely stone. It gets really cold so wear socks, and for the love of the divines, get yourself some sleepwear or at least a robe.”</p>
<p>“Aw, do I make you nervous?” Mania leaned heavily on Virgil’s side and the smaller man had to drag him to bed.</p>
<p>“No, you’re just a bit too,” he made a pinching gesture, “to enjoy seeing naked.” While that was a lie, Virgil enjoyed the scandalized expression that flashed over Mania’s face. </p>
<p>“Boo! Get better jokes.” The Tiefling started to strip out of his armor and left it in a heap on the floor. Virgil took that as his cue to leave the alcove and pull Mania’s moss curtain shut as he wandered across the hall to his room. It was decorated with meticulously placed spiderwebs and petrified bats. Virgil dropped his pack in the corner and fell right into the soft bedding, burying his face in the black furs and sighing to himself. This little temper tantrum nearly got him killed and looped another poor sucker in Deceit’s twisted games. He concentrated hard on Mania’s real name, pulling out his journal and writing it down until it became easy to think about. <em> Remus, Remus, Remus</em>. <em> I won’t forget your name because it’s my fault you’ve lost it. </em> </p>
<p>From downstairs, Virgil could hear the droning incantation Deceit used to connect to the World Roots, likely pursuing a vision of something that could help Ma--Remus get to where he was going quickly. The human was almost asleep when two words from the snake snapped him to full, worried alertness. “Oh no.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. To Smell A Rat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Remus doesn't know about romantic vs platonic attraction but still wants to cheer his buddy up. Patton, on the other hand, only has soft feelings.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Panic was on edge. Not that he wasn’t normally one loud noise away from reflexively blasting something with magic, but this was more on edge than edgier. If that even made sense. Panic was on edge about something that wasn’t Mania for a change and said Teifling wanted to fix that. He just didn’t have the faintest idea how. What did Roman do whenever he was upset? Sing about it? Nah, Panic wasn’t the singing type.</p><p>Mania paced in his room, muttering under his breath for the umpteenth time that week. While he was impatient to start his journey, Deceit told him that it had to wait for the right time--not when that right time would be, because that would be asking too much--and Panic had been the only thing keeping him from burning the forest down out of sheer boredom. But now, there was something wrong with Panic. Mania didn’t like it. He really didn’t like it. Couldn’t stand it--couldn’t think about anything else, either; damn him.</p><p>Welp, there was only one thing to do at a time like this: go through Panic’s room to look for something he’d like that would cheer him up! With no regard for personal space, the Tiefling slipped across the hall into the relatively dim and cobweb decorated alcove that was Panic’s room. He noted idly that most of the webbing glowed a faint purple, just the same as Panic’s magic and perhaps was natural spider webs that the human mage collected, modified and then hung himself. There were also several statutes of animals that Mania realized weren’t <em>exactly </em>statues. For one thing, the fur and skin details were so precise it was almost unthinkable on an effigy so small. That and the lingering traces of Deceit’s magic made him think that, perhaps, these stoned critters were animated creatures once upon a time. The life energy lingered in them, meaning that these injured or nearly dead animals had been locked into a kind of stasis.</p><p>Mania wasn’t sure if that should be considered merciful or cruel. Of course, the first thing that popped into his head was getting turned to stone and being aware of everything happening around him but unable to move. Unable to breathe or dream, just <em>there </em>stuck in one place, in one pose, forever. </p><p>He started chewing on his claws.</p><p>Muttering more intensely than before, Mania stalked through Panic’s room, perusing the smaller details. There was a surprising number of flowers tucked into vases and pots in the corners of the room. Perhaps he’d like another? Or maybe an accessory for one-- ”OH!” Mania’s tail thumped onto the floor as inspiration bludgeoned him over the head. “Skull pots!” That would fit the mopy wonder’s macabre decor while adding a little character to his grim little animal garden. </p><p>But what kind of skulls? Human skulls might be a bit touchy for Panic, given that he was a human, so perhaps animalian ones? There were plenty of odd and interesting shapes to work with in a swamp like this. Should probably avoid snakes too, given Deceit might not fancy that. </p><p>His boot knocked against a box hidden in an alcove under Panic’s bed and he knelt to haul the dusty old thing out. It was recently used by the repeated fingerprints marring the otherwise dust-coated surface. Most of the dust was stone debris from where it was stowed. Mania resisted his urge to blow it all off the top and simply popped the lid open instead. It was a sewing kit--a very old one at that--half-filled with the tools of the trade and half-filled with trinkets and journals. Little bits of memory made tangible in the objects that housed them. Mania hummed, picking up a worn leather book from the top of the pile. Maybe it was a spell tome?</p><p>He flipped onto a center page, skimming over the date from about three years ago in the top corner and scanning over bullet points noting what occurred on that day. It was a planner of some kind, tracking what magic Panic had practiced, as well as important events or discoveries. What spells were easier. Which ones were harder. The encouraging quotes Deceit had given him as little nuggets of wisdom. He flipped a few more pages and then found one day that was blank aside from ‘marked’ in very rough handwriting. </p><p>Intrigued, he kept skimming, a slow sinking sensation in his gut as Roman quietly tugged on his sleeve, trying to get him to stop. Mania flipped the page over and saw a name, almost illegible and scrawled over every inch of the paper, gradually becoming more uniform and readable the further down it got. “Vur...gel... Vir--? Virgil. Hmm, weird.”</p><p>“Bro, c’mon,” Roman groaned at him. “Going through someone’s diary is super rude and invasive!”</p><p>“Shut up, stick in the mud. Just one more page and I’ll--” His words died at the most recent entry, having jumped right to it. The top was dedicated to the bullet points though from about two-thirds up until the bottom of the page was another name. He squinted at it for a minute, spelling it out loud until he could force the syllables to form in his head. Then it clicked; this was <em>his </em>name. <em> Remus. Remus. Remus. </em> written over and over again like Panic was trying desperately not to forget it. </p><p>A headache unlike anything he felt before slammed into him and Mania dropped the book back into the tailoring kit, slapping the lid closed and breathing heavily in a hunched posture. He felt sick and dizzy and his vision flickered. All the unwelcome thoughts he hadn’t remembered thinking since the name had been taken flooded back into his mind and Mania shook his head, trying to fling them out of his skull like a dog shook off water. It was making his headache worse but he didn’t care. He didn’t want them! He didn’t want to think about them! He wanted them gone but the more he tried, the more they repeated themselves in a horrific loop. </p><p>Roman hugged him around the shoulders, and Mania latched onto those little arms, trying to breathe and focus on something else--gods, anything else. The mark on his shoulder felt warm and that cloudy forgetfulness came over him again and Mania blinked. </p><p>What was he doing in Vir--Panic’s room? Oh, right! Animal skull planters!</p><p>Mania raced downstairs with a pep in his step, ambush-tackling Panic on the couch with a loud “Good morning” as the smaller man’s only warning. Panic grunted at his weight, stiffening for a moment before going limp underneath him. </p><p>“Divines above, you <em> reek </em>.”</p><p>Mania chortled, hugging Panic to his chest with a wide grin. “Thank you. Reek is what I was going for.”</p><p>“Get off,” Panic whined, poking and prodding at Mania’s face and sides instead of trying to brute force him away. This was effective insofar as Mania enjoyed the tickling and attention, especially when Panic grabbed onto his horns to shake his head playfully. It felt familiar and relaxing in an odd way--very grounding. Speaking of, Mania rolled off onto the floor with a thud, Panic leaning over the side of the couch to continue poking him on the nose and cheeks. “Gods, you’re weird.”</p><p>His heart soared at the small smirk adorning Panic’s thin lips, mirroring it with a leer of his own. “I know! Hey, Panic, what is your favorite animal head?”</p><p>“Erh,” the human paused his prodding, looking Mania in the eye with a befuddled expression. After a beat of silence, Panic palmed one of Mania’s horns again, feeling the ribbing from years of growth and mumbled. “Rams, I guess?”</p><p>Where in the Nine Circles was he supposed to find a ram in a swamp? Mania pouted and pondered, staring off into space while maintaining eye contact. He didn’t notice they’d started a staring contest until Panic blinked and grunted that he was ‘too good at that’. Rolling with it, Mania sat up with a sing-songy, “I win!” He hopped up, tail swishing happily as he marched into the kitchen in the hopes of finding Deceit. Mania stopped short when Panic called him, pivoting to stare at the human. </p><p>Panic blanched, as usual, jumping at the sudden movement. He seemed prone to that sort of thing, and every time Mania just wanted to hug the human so hard that his guts would pop out. It was that cute. </p><p>“What’s up, Charlie Frown?” Mania had to prompt after a moment of silence.</p><p>“I--it’s nothing.” Well, it very clearly wasn’t nothing from the way Panic wrung his hands and bit his lower lip. The human eventually stood, shuffling over with warry hesitation in his every movement. Mania watched him like a hawk the whole time, conjuring up a wide variety of situations that this encounter could end with, more than one was Panic giving him a smooch which he decided would be weird but not exactly bad. </p><p>Mania definitely <em>didn’t </em>flinch when Panic reached a hand up to wipe a wet spot under his eye... Maybe Deceit was rubbing off on his inner monologue too much. Roman grumbled a sarcastic slight under his breath while sitting on the kitchen table which Mania did his level best to ignore in favor of the man in front of him. “I just noticed,” Panic mumbled, “that you didn’t look... <em> chipper </em> like you usually do.” When the human’s other hand reached out to wipe Mania’s face the Tiefling took a step back, doing it himself. “Are you feeling okay?”</p><p>“I really don’t remember how those got there. I feel fine.” Mania hummed, rubbing at his eyes now to get them dry. </p><p>“You don’t...remember?” There was something cautious in Panic’s tone, almost suspicious. Mania just shrugged, not sure how to assuage his concerns without spoiling the surprise. “It’s not something I did, is it?”</p><p>“Of course not, orb-weaver.” Mania chirped, leaning his elbow onto Panic’s shoulder. “You’re too much of a softy for that.”</p><p>“I’m not soft,” Panic grumbled, relaxing a little at the reassurance. “You going to go pester Deceit for more magic lessons?” </p><p>Mania didn’t miss the jump in subject nor the astute way Panic read his actions, even if he didn’t get the motives quite right. “Yep. I wanna go hunting!” He watched the way Panic’s face lit up as he tentatively asked if that meant they’d be having meat for dinner. It kind of felt like he had a bunch of moths buzzing around in his stomach when he smirked back. There was no way he was getting words to function at the moment so Mania sauntered off. </p><p>Deceit cooled his mood, hardly listening to Mania chatter as the old sage focused on his magic work, swirling scintillating gold light in a cauldron. “I’m sorry. I must have misheard you, Mania. You want to go <em> hunting </em>?”</p><p>“Yep! Rams.”</p><p>“Certainly there’s something else you’d like to eat. That’s a <em> perfectly reasonable </em> amount of effort for some mutton.” His wide mouth set into a half-grimace, the reptilian yellow of his left eye still unsettled Mania a little and the Tiefling started to giggle. “You’re <em> not </em> planning something else, are you.”</p><p>It wasn’t exactly a question but Mania nodded quickly. “I’m planning an... art project of sorts, which is why it <em> has </em> to be rams.”</p><p>Deceit heaved a sigh and pointed towards a tapestry hanging on the back wall of his workshop showing the whole breadth and width of the cursed forest. “Towards the beginning of the Champion’s path is a cliff-area where you <em> might </em>find a ram or mountain ghost. Something like that should suffice?”</p><p>Roman looked over it from near the door, not wanting to go near Deceit as Mania paced further into the room. His black-clawed fingers skimmed over the threadwork, finding the best path there and putting it to memory. “How far is it?”</p><p>“<em> So far </em>that it’ll take you <em>days</em>,” Deceit drawled with a sarcastic smirk. </p><p>“So a few hours then.” Mania hummed, nodding to himself and summoning his morning star. “I’ll be back by nightfall! This’ll be great practice for those new spells you were showing me.”</p><p>“I’m sure. Send in Panic would you? I need a word with him.” Deceit’s forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air over the potion he was brewing. The serpent-man pulled a spool of silk thread out from a bag on his nearby work table, lowing it into the pot carefully and watching as the golden light suffused the material. Mania had paused by the doorway to watch as well. The cauldron and thread were the only true lights in the otherwise dark and windowless chamber. The underlighting didn’t do anything to make the tree-root ceiling less ominous. If he were a more sheltered man, Mania might even call this room a den of evil. It certainly felt like one when he first saw it after his arrival a week ago. Now the hanging bottles and charms in Deceit’s workshop seemed lest sinister and the magical darkness emulated an enchanting, starless night with a contemplative air. </p><p>Mania wondered if Deceit had the same idea as him: getting a gift to cheer Panic up. “You got it, boss,” he snarked, finally getting a move on. Mania patted his friend on the head as he walked by, teasing the bangs that he knew glowed purple when Panic used his powers. “Scales wants to see you; I’ll be back tonight.”</p><p>“Do you remember the way into the house,” Panic asked while standing. He wasn’t going to keep Deceit waiting but he also wasn’t going to leave well enough alone, pestering the Tiefling about his ability to remember the correct steps and roots. Mania was touched that Panic didn’t want to see him splattered against the bedrock. </p><p>“Don’t worry too much,” Mania put a hand on Panic’s shoulder and flashed a genuine smile, “I’ll be fine. I’ve got my bro watching out for me, remember?”</p><p>“Right.” They pulled apart a little awkwardly after that, but Mania didn’t let that bother him. The bark creaked as he climbed the spiraling staircase, the living house reaching upward to let him out into the crown of leaves. The air was fresh up here, if not heavy and humid. It was a very different feeling to the cold and the dark he’d known for most of his life. Mania stretched and plucked up a feather from a nearby nest. He cackled to himself as he catapulted his morning star in the direction of the mountains with all his might and got himself into a runner’s mark. Mania shouted the incantation while sprinting, his magic consuming the feather in green fire as he hurled himself from the roof. Roman was holding onto his tail and screaming as they fell while Mania just laughed louder. </p><hr/><p>“Now kiddo, that’s not how you tie down a tent,” Patton hummed, nudging Roman’s hands out of the way as he sang the mnemonic he taught to the children he’d cared for. It was a little ditty about a fox running around a dog and then ducking into a hole. “There we go. See?”</p><p>“I think so,” the Prince mumbled, softly repeating the song under his breath as he went to the next support stake to tie the leadoff. The knot was a little rough, but serviceable. Roman tested the line by plucking it and a small smile came to his face at the deep twang it made. That lifted Patton’s spirits quite a bit. After a week on the road, marching to Logan’s oppressive schedule, they were all feeling worn down. Roman more than most. The majority of his work in the palace had been political and judicial, very little in terms of manually taxing activity that wasn’t related to leisure.</p><p>It wasn’t like the Prince didn’t want to learn or do new things, but Patton found it easier to make subtle encouragements at the beginning because Roman was <em>rather </em>prideful. He hummed another song to himself while moving to work on the other side of the tent. They’d secure it faster with the both of them working. Logan was gathering firewood. That had been a funny-in-hindsight argument between the Tiefling and the High Elf when Roman brought back damp firewood and used his flame magic to <em>prove </em>it could light. They’d smoked out the cave they’d sheltered in and Roman didn’t seem to understand what was so bad about all the smoke--almost like it didn’t bother him. He apologized afterward when Logan informed him that neither he nor Patton could breathe smoke harm-free.</p><p>“What a fun adventure,” the halfling chuckled to himself. Once the tent was up, Roman got to work on the fire pit, making sure this one wasn’t going to burn over, while Patton took Frog and the group’s waterskins down to a nearby stream. He remembered coming by this way to get to the capital about a year ago and the water from this <em> particular </em>stream was crisp and clean. If they kept to the southern road, Patton mused, the three of them would pass right by his hometown and he might have the opportunity to pop in on the kiddos; let them know how he was doing--Oh, maybe even introduce the others to Charity. Wouldn’t that be nifty?</p><p>When he got to where the stream should be, the halfling’s smile dropped into a shocked frown. There wasn’t any water. The bed was dry as a bone too. Speaking of, Patton found among the rocks the well-picked skeletons of the small fish who once called the stream home, all scattered about. This must’ve happened within the month, but he couldn’t understand why. The stream bed itself was a good foot or two deep meaning the water had been following this course for <em>ages; </em> for it to suddenly dry up... That had to be mortal intervention. </p><p>Frog’s ears fell back and he pawed at the bank with a disgruntled huff. </p><p>“I hear ya, bud. Looks like there’s no water for us.” Patton’s gaze drifted up-stream towards the mountain range not very far off. There were smoke plumes he didn’t remember seeing a year ago standing out against the evening sky. If that was a town over there, it might be better to stop in an inn for the night instead of camping out. He sighed, hoisting himself back up onto Frog’s shoulders and turning the donkey around. “Well, we’d better get back before we’re missed. Maybe Logan can find out where to find water if Roman really doesn’t want to go into town.” </p><p>The Prince was avoiding civilization whenever possible. Something about making it harder for his father to find him. While Patton understood where he was coming from, surely there was a better way of handling this situation than running away from home. Back at camp Logan had returned and both he and Roman were back to having a spat, this time about the proper way to arrange the firepit. Logan focused on the efficacy of the structure, how long the fire would be able to burn, and so wanted to arrange the thicker sticks like a miniature bonfire. Roman crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, “What’s the point of it burning longer if it’s not strong enough to actually keep us warm?”</p><p>“My suggestion would preserve fuel and give us warmth for longer. It’s better to tend to what you have instead of burning out half-way through the night.”</p><p>“And what if a storm rolls by? If we keep a smaller, faster burning and hotter fire, we don’t risk getting rained out by unforeseen circumstances and can adapt!”</p><p>Patton cleared his throat, a peaceful smile on his face as he pointed in the direction of the town. “Or, we could stay at an inn for the night and not worry about the fire?”</p><p>The Prince immediately looked uncomfortable, pursing his lips to suppress the grimace threatening to take over his face while Logan adjusted his glasses. “I take it by the dryness of Frog’s legs you did not find any water.”</p><p>“Nope, seems like the folks in the area put up a dam on the stream a-ways up into the mountains--or at least that’s what I think.” The halfling swung down off of Frog’s back and gave the patient animal the last of his water so that the one doing all the hard work of moving their camp around wouldn’t get thirsty.</p><p>Observing this, Logan sighed quickly through his nose. “Roman, I understand your reservations about undue public appearance, given that you are rather conspicuous, however, I believe it is our best interest to resupply. We are presently out of water and with your appetite, we will be out of food in a day at this rate.”</p><p>The Prince flushed a darker shade of red as his shoulders hunched up. The tip of Roman’s tail whipped through the air while he grumbled, “Fine; just long enough to get more supplies. We aren’t staying the night.”</p><p>“Oooh, ooh,” Patton beamed up at his two much taller traveling companions. “Maybe they’ll have an Augur who can predict the weather for the next few days!” The skeptical look Logan flashed him and the outright confused brow-raise on Roman told Patton everything he needed to know about his companions’ experience. Sure, Logan moved around a lot, but before they left the Capitol Lands, he’d admitted to sticking with roads and towns. Something the halfling never intentionally sought out. Patton was the most knowledgeable about the game trails wilderness journeys. An Augur or Seer saved his and Frog’s bacon on more than one night. “Trust me on this, you two,” he giggled, “it’ll--”</p><p>“Don’t,” Logan held up a hand, his thick brows pinching in mild disgust. “Whatever pun you were about to make, just...don’t.”</p><p>“I’m surprised I didn’t <em> seer </em> that one coming, Logan.”</p><p>Patton tried not to take too much joy seeing the elf cringe and groan. It was all in good humor. In fact, the halfling could see into Logan’s heart--a special talent that he didn’t publicize--and knew that under all the welching, Logan enjoyed wordplay. It’s just he detested the absence of verbal and literal clarity <em>that much more</em>. There might be a few puns in the elf yet, all Patton needed to do was relax Logan enough to get them out. </p><p>On that thought, he gave a glance Roman’s way and frowned. For all the nobility of the Prince and his openness with his intentions, there was something dark swirling around under his surface. Lots of anger and pride and a deep well of loathing. It was like lifting a beautiful rug everyone was careful not to walk on only to discover that there was a dark, bottomless pit underneath it. And the pit moved around. It was never in the same place twice--like the reactions of a person conditioned to the unpredictable rather than the stable. It worried the halfling but he was careful in how he showed it. Roman didn’t seem to <em>appreciate </em>pity.</p><p>At Roman’s insistence, they left the camp more or less how it was. Since they’d chosen a low foot-traffic area it was unlikely anything left here for under five hours would go missing; not that there was much to steal in the first place. All of their gear, they kept on them, Patton went nowhere without Frog when not in a city, and what snatch and dash criminal would swipe a used bedroll much less take the time to deconstruct a three-person tent with hardly anything in it?</p><p>The hike up into the mountains was fairly short considering the untouched valley consisted mostly of overgrown game trails and tangled, swallowed-up roads that had long since lost their masonry. The occasional patch of mossy cobble and packed wagon-tread ditches were all that was left of it. </p><p>“This is highly impractical,” Logan grumbled, stumbling on a petrified tree root and taking a moment to smooth down his shirt. </p><p>Patton paused at the head of the group, pivoting around on Frog’s back to speak comfortably with the two much taller and much more bothered men. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“I noticed it too,” Roman cut in; he was bringing up the rear of the party as he was the tallest and the most likely to get tangled if the path wasn’t worn down first. “If the smoke you saw indicated a mining or a logging town, surely the major roads--or <em> any roads </em>--would be more cared for than this.”</p><p>“Indeed, an industry that requires frequent transportation of goods and services would be a figurative logistical nightmare in this environment.” While he spoke, Logan plucked off his glasses to wipe the lenses clean on a handkerchief. “There is no logical reason for a commercial community to isolate itself in such an extreme manner.”</p><p>“Unless the commercial activity was illegal,” Roman’s tone darkened and Patton gave a surprised gasp.</p><p>“Now kiddos, you mustn’t--I mean you really shouldn’t judge people we haven’t even met.” </p><p>Roman and Logan shared a glance before the elf lightly cleared his throat. “We also cannot afford to totally disregard our suspicions given our situation. It is admirable that you look towards the best in everyone, Patton, however, that’s not something we can or should attempt in every situation.”</p><p>“The point is,” Roman grunted, “this town you spotted might not be friendly and we need to be ready for that. With the roads this way, running is going to be pretty much impossible.” The Prince drew his sword and scooted past Logan and Patton to start clearing the way. As he brought the blade down on the first brach, it crackled with long spent magic, turning to dust as it fell. They all stopped to stare at that. “Now I <em> really </em> don’t like this.”</p><p>Their progress slowed as they moved out of the valley and into the mountain proper, Roman at the front now, clearing the way and keeping a softly crackling flame in his free hand just in case something lunged at them from the forest. This place felt increasingly more hostile--less and less an untouched natural paradise and more and more like it had been purposefully constructed to keep people out. Then they came to the dam. </p><p>It was a recent construction. Rising out of the stream bed a good ten feet and structured by driving whole tree trunks down into the soil before being building up with stone and sealing clay on either side, packing it all down and adding another layer on top until the sun and pressure had baked it solid. On the upstream side of the dam was a reservoir of springwater. To keep it from overflowing, a trench had been carved into the new lake’s bank leading into a wooden and iron gate. The gate itself was only large enough for the water to pass through while an actual portcullis made from what was likely the salvaged branches led into a fortified camp of some kind. It had been built up in a similar way to the dam, the outside of the log-packed walls up to about six feet reinforced by stone. There was a set of guards on the top of the wall, or maybe lookouts, dressed in furs and armed with bows. Roman knelt in the shadow of the dam to observe them while he gestured for Patton and Logan to hang back in the woods.</p><p>The halfling frowned to himself, scanning construction and listening to voices of gruff cheering from within the makeshift stronghold. They didn’t sound too friendly, the more he listened, singing drinking songs and telling in loud voices of the exploits they’d undertaken; namely, the plunder they’d ripped from travelers using the main road about a day or so from here. This wasn’t just a bandit camp, this was a bandit <em>town</em>, all nestled under the shade of a massive oak tree around which they’d constructed their fort.</p><p>Patton considered filling up their waterskins and then retreating back to their camp--but if there were patrols and the path Roman partially cut to get here was discovered then that could lead the lot of them back to the party’s camp in the valley. He wrung his hands and silently pleaded with Charity to show him the best course of action. Patton didn’t know what to do. </p><p>That’s when he heard Roman murmuring something, the fire in his hand growing larger. Logan noticed too and quickly hissed, “What are you doing? If you’re setting the fortress alight that might start a major forest fire!”</p><p>“Relax, four-eyes, I’m not going to be burning anything,” Roman pivoted towards them and flashed a winning smile that was only a little scary given the glow of flames against his hand. “It’s an illusion.” Then, complicating his image a bit more, Roman pulled an illusory bow into existence, the arrowhead now supporting the light of the phantom flame. He pulled the drawstring back with surprisingly competent form and loosed it, bow vanishing the moment he did. The two guards jolted at the flaming arrow embedding into the gate. Roman continued incanting under his breath to adjust the image, making swirl and expand as flames appeared to engulf the structure. There was panic rising in the camp. </p><p>“Alright, and how does this help us?” Logan grabbed Roman’s shoulder, trying to get more answers before the situation became untenable. </p><p>“Bring chaos into the enemy's camp and disrupt them. Strike hard and fast while they’re in disorder and claim victory.” The Prince grabbed Logan’s hand between his thumb and pointer finger, removing the elf’s grip on his shoulder and an ever-so-slightly smug look. “It’s a simple war tactic that I’ve found very useful in mock combat. Even more useful in the real thing, apparently.”</p><p>“Mock combat?”</p><p>“Yes,” Roman lightly adjusted his armor and clenched a hand around his blade. “As the Prince, I was trained to lead men into battle. The King our nation fights on the front lines, after all.”</p><p>“That’s...suicidally dangerous for a monarch.” Logan spluttered incredulously and even Patton had to nod in agreement. “What happens if you’re killed?”</p><p>“Most of the men, or at least the noblemen, fighting are decorated in their coat of arms. It is much more likely that anyone of ‘worth’ would be taken captive and ransomed. Besides, if a King is too weak to lead the first charge, no one would follow him.” Roman spoke so matter of factly that it gave the halfling serious pause. Was this something that he was taught--something that was drilled into Roman’s mind as the morally or naturally right thing to do?</p><p>He couldn’t parse how best to ask before the Prince rushed forward. Even in that heavy armor, Roman was light on his feet, launching himself up through the illusory flames and terrifying the bandits scrambling to put out the unreal fire. Coupling his sudden attack with his appearance and Patton realized why the tactic worked so well for him. Roman looked like a demon or some other terrifying creature in the eyes of these men. And what mortals were afraid of became more deadly and more frightening. He was able to cut down three of the bandits <em>very </em>quickly, scattering the rest.</p><p>“We should help him,” Logan stood, pulling the crossbow off his hip and murmuring a prayer as he fired. The bolts spiraled forth with radiant energy and struck cleanly and quickly. It made Patton’s stomach turn. </p><p>He realized these weren’t good people but the killing still upset him. They’d not even been given a chance to apologize or redeem themselves. So, the halfling rolled up his robe sleeves and kicked his heels into Frog’s sides, charging through the open gate into the keep. “I’m going to need your help, Charity,” he whispered, stealing himself for the rush of power that boiled through his skin. The light spilled into the camp even brighter than the illusionary flames. Many it touched became drowsy and stumbled, even more fell into a deep sleep. Logan and Roman stopped fighting to watch with slightly awed expressions; the image of Charity hovered over Patton, her arms extended in a welcoming embrace and wings reaching out and up towards the darkened branches above. </p><p>The toll this took on Patton’s body was staggering and he sagged in the saddle, just enough strength to hold onto Frog’s neck. Logan approached first, eyes still fixed on the fading image of Charity as the few remaining bandits that weren’t immediately put to sleep fled through the gate. This put them right in Roman’s path, which was decidedly not good for the bandits. No one made it past him, but the Prince didn’t strike lethal blows at the very least. </p><p>“What was that?” Logan asked while checking Patton’s health.</p><p>“Charity, my patron. She’s been helping me and also the one that sent me on my journey.”</p><p>“That’s why you reacted to her image in my journal,” the elf nodded, a twinkle in his eye at the realization. While they spoke, Roman dismissed the magic holding the flames together and began tying up the unconscious bandits. Patton watched him as the Prince moved through the camp, trying to find a cloth to clean his blade. He wasn’t very attentive for the rest of the time they were in the camp, more trying to focus on stopping his head from spinning. Logan did something that made a loud bang, like a firework, and Roman got into another spat with him which really wasn’t helping Patton’s headache.</p><p>“We want the local authorities to know this encampment is here!” Logan finally snapped and that seemed to be the end of the conversation. Roman lifted Patton off Frog’s back as the donkey was loaded up with what non-perishable, non-valuable food items the two could decide were worth taking. The rest would be confiscated and hopefully returned to their proper places. No one touched the money. Logan stopped at the reservoir to fill their waterskins from the fresh supply. </p><p>After that, Patton fell asleep on Roman’s shoulder, comfortably warm and satisfied that he’d done something good, even if it wasn’t for the best of people. He got a rude awakening once they were back at their camp. Logan had shouted a warning which, after a near hour walk of silence, jolted the halfling awake. There was someone in their camp. More specifically going through their stuff in their camp. </p><p>Pale and startled and scrawny-looking. Roman tucked Patton under one arm to level a blade at the intruder while Logan also took a fighting stance. Whoever he was braced for the altercation, eyes flashing with purple magic from beneath his hood--wait, that tattered robe--Patton recognized the stitchwork on it from about a decade ago. The seamstress and her baby boy. The halfling snapped to alertness and dropped out of Roman’s grip, lifting up his hands in a placating gesture, “Wait! Wait,” he said, more focused on stopping his traveling companions than the familiar stranger. </p><p>It was at that moment, the man took off running. Roman lunged after him, vaulting over Patton’s head and covering ground much faster than the thief could. The Prince reached out a clawed hand and seized the back of his robe only for the purple flash of magic to burst in his eyes. Roman took poison spray to the face with a shout of pain, uttering a strange and harsh sounding language which produced a gout of hellfire, slamming the mage onto the ground with a fairly nasty burn on his chest. Logan was there in the next moment, firmly setting his war hammer down on the mage’s chest while Patton addressed Roman’s injury. </p><p>“Why did you do that?” Patton scolded, forcing Roman’s hands away from his face to purify the poison before it could do any more damage. </p><p>“He hit me in the eyes!” The Prince snarled out his pain. Blinking the purple grit out with tears as it was rendered inert. “More importantly, he was running away.”</p><p>“Probably because we scared him. I don’t blame the kiddo after everything he’s been though--if it's who I think it is.”</p><p>“Someone you know, Patton?” Logan let up the pressure and knelt by the mage, half-forcing him upright to heal the burn with some divine magic. </p><p>“Maybe,” he admitted lamely, waddling over to the mage now with a paternal smile. “Could you take your hood down kiddo?”</p><p>He grit his teeth but did, revealing his dark brown hair and sunken eyes that still glowed with built-up magic. The faded scar under his left eye was what gave him away. Patton remembered how panicked his mother was when she thought he’d lose his sight. That cut had been one Patton himself made to drain some fluid and lessen the pressure. He pulled out the heart-broach he carried around--one that she gave him as the only way to pay for sheltering both herself and her son--not that she needed to pay him; Patton would have done it anyway. He knew there was good in the child’s heart, it’s just that he had a power that was greater than he could control and didn’t have anyone to guide him in how to use it.</p><p>“You really grew up fast, kiddo. I barely recognize you.”</p><p>The young man glanced at the broach and narrowed his eyes, relaxing his shoulders a little when something seemed to click. “You’re that priest. But--what are you doing out here?”</p><p>“I could ask the same to you.”</p><p>Roman splashed some water onto his face and groused, “Care to fill us in, Padre?”</p><p>“I’m not sure if the whole story is mine to tell, but this is... Oh gosh kiddo, I’m sorry but I don’t exactly remember your name.”</p><p>“It’s fine. I don’t have much use for it anyway.”</p><p>“Erh,” Patton had expected for the young man to <em>tell </em>him what it was instead of uttering such a dismissive phrase. “Anyway, there were some incidents in our hometown--accidents really--and his mom got blamed for it. The townsfolk were all sorts of angry and they did some really bad things to the kiddo here and his mother. I took them in for a while, but--”</p><p>“I left.” The young man glowered at Patton and he got a sinking sensation in his stomach, heart beating a little faster. “I wasn’t wanted and the people made it pretty clear that showing my face meant getting killed, so I left.”</p><p>There was a long tense pause before Roman callously grumbled, “Well whatever happened for them to hate you that much must’ve been for a reason.”</p><p>“I think what Roman is trying to say,” Logan placed a hand on the human’s shoulder when he tensed in anger, “is that: knowing this and our first meeting being such a violent, sudden altercation, we are not inclined to trust that you aren’t a threat. Please, provide more information. Such as what you were doing here, going through our belongings.”</p><p>He sighed, turning his glare onto Logan’s hand. “I was supposed to find something a friend of mine is looking for. There were bandits up on the ridge where his house <em>used </em>to be and I figured that this was just another part of that camp. I was looking for a disguise.”</p><p>“Well we’ve handled the bandits,” Roman grunted, “So you can be on your merry way looking for whatever it is.” He waved dismissively and Patton frowned at him. </p><p>“Well, we were just there. Perhaps you could describe what you were looking for and we could elucidate you on its location.” Logan helped the human to his feet and cast Mending on the burnt robes, knitting the fabric closed diligently while he waited for the mage to speak.</p><p>There was a tight sigh and Patton peered around Logan’s legs to see the slight grimace-sneer taking over the human’s otherwise exhausted expression. “It was something new to the area, I guess. A journal or a book with a bunch of prophetic pictures in it.”</p><p>Logan paused, adjusting his glasses and staring the human in the eyes. It was another tense moment before the elf pulled his dream-journal off of his hip and held it open to the mage. “Something like this?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah I guess. Where did you find it?”</p><p>“I didn’t. I’ve been recording my vision in it as they come to me. This is my journal.”</p><p>Roman grunted, “So let me get this straight, a friend of yours used to live out in the middle of a ‘cursed forest’ towards the edge of the Kingdom and just somehow knew that Logan’s journal would be here--at his old home, which had been infested by bandits--and you were sent out to get it, <em> alone </em>?”</p><p>“I had no idea the book belonged to anyone,” the human bit back, crossing his arms with a scowl. </p><p>“But you do realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?” Roman’s tail began lashing through the air behind him. “How did this <em> friend </em> of yours even know where Logan’s journal was?”</p><p>“How should I know? He’s a cranky old magic-user that just <em> knows </em> things.”</p><p>“And you’re his errand boy.”</p><p>“Roman!” Patton gasped and the Prince scoffed in return.</p><p>“I don’t like it and I don’t trust it.”</p><p>Logan huffed, snapping the book closed hard enough to gather everyone’s attention. “I understand we are traveling together, and I know your concerns, Roman, but that is enough. Our enigmatic associate here was sent specifically for a prophetic book, one which I happen to have. The infinitesimal probability of that being random is significant. We are looking for answers anyway and the past week of wandering around this area--specifically for its connection to a folkloric snake--has yielded nothing.” He turned his hard stare back onto the human and firmly tucked the book back into his shoulder bag. “I say we at least hear him out.”</p><hr/><p>Mania came marching back into the house with a spring in his step and a large black-grey pelt draped over his shoulder. He found a nice big goat with beautifully twisted horns and was able to scrape the whole thing clean fairly quickly. Making it back home with a bunch of salted meat and covered in goat blood had been another challenge in and of itself, but that just meant he had a rather large crocodile corpse he was dragging behind him. He could do so many wonderful things with the hide and the pitted skull would make a nice matching pot for his room as well. </p><p>Deceit was in the kitchen knitting something out of that glowing golden thread from earlier with a pensive expression. That gave Mania pause. Deceit only looked like that when something was going wrong. And where was Panic?</p><p>He dropped the corpse, pelt, meat, and skull by the landing and stalked up behind the serpent man. In the shimmering of the fabric was an image. It seemed to be about chest height and blurry, only catching shadows and fast movement but no colors. “Hey, snake, where’s Panic?” His voice was low with worry, gaze fixed on the moving images, even more so when the shape of a horned figure flashed across the cloth work. He gripped the back of Deceit’s chair hard enough that the wood groaned.</p><p>“He’s out running an errand for me. I needed something.”</p><p>“So that’s--” Mania cut off, pointing over Deceit’s shoulder at the bolt of fabric he was knitting. </p><p>“Me keeping an eye on him.”</p><p>“He’s being attacked,” Mania’s pitch dropped lower, the Tiefling gritting his fangs together and grinding them in irritation. His nerves fired and if it wasn’t for Deceit gently placing a hand on his Remus might’ve gone charging off with no direction in search of his friend. </p><p>“Patience, Mania. I know what I’m doing. Panic will not be harmed.”</p><p>“Is that a lie?” </p><p>Deceit sighed and stood, turning to loom slightly over Mania. His fingers tugged at his right glove until he slid the golden fabric off and placed a warm, bare hand on Mania’s cheek. “I promise you it’s the truth. He will come back to us if we just give him a little time.”</p><p>The Tiefling bit his lower lip, the end of his tail swishing sharply from one side to the other.</p><p>“I understand it’s hard to give space to those you care about after everything you’ve gone through--” Deceit’s words caused Mania to flinch, “--but I’ve taught our human <em>very well</em>. He can fend for himself.”</p><p>“But what if he’s not back soon enough?”</p><p>“Then we go after him ourselves. Remember what I said about my marks?” Deceit’s voice was soft, smooth, and placating in a way that had Mania bristling despite himself. </p><p>“They let you know where we are and if we’re hurt?”</p><p>“<em>Precisely.</em>” He pat Mania on the cheek twice before sliding his glove back on. His grin was...unsettling. “I’ll know if Panic is in danger. We’ll give him more time. If he starts to move further away, however, we’ll race to his rescue. Sound fair?”</p>
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